Bullet Nine
by astrarius
Summary: It's one thing to steal a heart and another thing entirely what you do with it afterward. / Her eyes flashed and the Hunter felt his heart rattling off of his ribcage like a jumpship breaking orbit. With narrow eyes, she leaned forward to whisper, "I'll let you buy me a drink. If you can beat me in the Crucible." / It's about Thorn. / Complete unless you convince me otherwise.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note** : Don't get too excited. It's the same story, mostly, but I'm correcting a few grammar and spelling errors throughout, divorcing my terrible love affair with the word 'that,' and making the whole thing, in general, a little less cheesy. In a few spots, I reworked a bit of the dialogue and made a few characters more consistent, in my humble opinion. Hell, who am I kidding? There's enough new it's worth another read. I had to make it worth the 'M' rating, yeah?

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own it. But if I did, you wouldn't have to sell your soul for a Light level. And you wouldn't get bored three days into the week. Sorry, Bungie, I said it.

 **Bullet Nine**

" _To rend one's enemies is to see them not as enemies, but objects-hollow of spirit and meaning."_

 _\- 13th Understanding, 7th Book of Sorrow_

 **One**

It wasn't until the man seated beside him shifted in his seat, gripping his shoulder over the place his chest plate separated from his arm guard, the Hunter realized he'd been staring.

Openly.

It seemed his good fortune _she_ hadn't taken any notice; a fact which most pleased the Hunter as he sat beside the Titan and Warlock that rounded out his Fireteam. The trio was sharing a drink in the back corner of their favorite bar; a dimly lit establishment tucked near some of the lesser used bays within the hangar. It was another, entirely different, stroke of luck neither of the men sitting around the table with him had taken notice, either.

Duncan wasn't sure he possessed patience enough that evening, in particular, to put up with the Titan's teasing or the Warlock's lecture.

Not about the staring, at least.

Noticing the Titan's attention was beginning to drift to the same table that had earlier caught his attention, the Hunter decided his best course of action was to pass the blame… quickly and before either of his Fireteam-mates had a chance to notice where he had chosen to direct his attention.

"Daydreamin' again, Kellin?" the Hunter goaded behind his smooth accent.

As the Awoken Titan shifted so he was leaning forward over the table, his attention no longer on the trio of female Guardians seated near the front of the bar, the Hunter watched as Kellin narrowed his amber eyes and took a long, thoughtful sip of his dark amber ale. The Titan smirked a handsome half smile which screamed of mischief and misery and everything else only years of experience could convince Duncan he wanted to avoid. Kellin seemed to consider the Hunter's accusation, or he might have enjoyed the lingering taste of ale on his tongue. With a tone of practiced disinterest, Kellin replied, "Daydreamin's a whole helluva lot better than listenin' to whatever you're on about this time."

Duncan managed a friendly, patient laugh, pausing only to take a drink from the glass of scotch in his hand. His hazel eyes traced a cautious path back across the bar to the same table he'd been pretending to ignore. There were two Warlocks–an Exo and a human–and an Awoken Hunter talking in a loud and animated manner to one another. An impressive collection of empty barware was stacked in the center of the table between them.

It was the human Warlock, talking with her hands, who captured the Hunter's eye…

Her skin was pale, but her cheekbones were glowing a light shade of rose-red, suggesting she'd already enjoyed a few drinks of her own. She had icy blonde hair which seemed to shine almost silver in the dim light of the bar. Duncan reached forward for his glass of scotch and used the smoky taste to clear his mind of what sort of things he might have the privilege of whispering to her in the darkest corners of the hangar if Kellin didn't make it to her first.

He watched as her long hair fell over her shoulders to cascade down her back from her laughter. Her features seemed to soften until she looked almost angelic when the female Hunter with her leaned across the table and gestured in the direction of his Fireteam. Even from as far away as he was seated, Duncan could tell she was beautiful.

He couldn't blame Kellin for daydreaming about her if that's who the Titan's attention had fallen on, but there was her Awoken companion to consider. She was taller than either of the Warlocks. He could make out the fact for the way she hooked her heel on the bottom rung of her barstool while the other women had opted for the top. Her bright eyes glimmered through the dim light of the bar in a haunting shade of pale blue that reflected an eerie sort of knowing gaze from behind her grey skin. Her hair was a striking hue of midnight blue, held away from her face in a severe bun tied at the nape of her neck.

Duncan couldn't help but hope Kellin had been looking at the Hunter…

"So, which one is it, Titan?" Amri, their Warlock, had the foresight to ask. And Duncan breathed a silent sigh of relief the Warlock had been the one to ask the question so he wouldn't have to.

"Hn?"

"You're thinkin' abou' one of them," the Hunter clarified, watching the way the Titan's amber eyes widened in surprise for a brief moment; it was the way he'd reacted to the word 'you're.' Like he was surprised to have been caught admiring the trio of female Guardians… like he was hoping to find the Hunter in a position to be just as guilty as he.

Duncan felt his skin crawl. This Titan knew him well. Too well.

Quickly composing himself, Kellin ran a hand through his shaggy crimson bangs and smirked, "The Exo."

Duncan snorted, almost spitting out his scotch for the absurdity of the Titan's confession. Regaining his composure as fast as he'd lost it, the Hunter dismissed his friend's outburst by dropping his glass back on the table with a loud thud, "Well, 'less there's onena them other ladies included in tha' perverted fantasy a yours, I s'pose I'm no' as interested as I'd previously though'."

"She's rather fetching," Amri defended levelly, tapping his index finger against his chin as though considering his statement further. After a brief pause where neither of his Fireteam-mates seemed to understand what he'd just offered to their conversation, he clarified, "The Exo Warlock."

Both men turned to look at their Warlock with raised eyebrows.

It was thanks to that Exo, Amrinian-12, or Amri as they preferred to call him, this pair of Guardians had been brought back to the Tower safely. The comradery shared in their newness, coupled with the false confidence each had adopted to replace the persistent fears around their shared uncertainty, had bonded the two men, a Titan and a Hunter, on an unspoken level. Amri simply felt responsible for keeping them both alive.

Now, after seven years in the Traveler's service, the trio was more like brothers than Fireteam-mates.

With a deep breath, the Hunter took a sip of scotch as his eyes settled on the Titan sitting across from him. The other man's bright crimson bangs were falling forward to obscure a bit of his face, but the Hunter could still make out the faintest hint of a mischievous glimmer in the Titan's amber eyes. His voice was low when he challenged, "Well, which is it you'd rather hear about? The Warlock or the Hunter?"

"The Hunter," Duncan lied too quickly. He was not sure he was yet ready to let on to the Titan how much he preferred the little Warlock at the other table to either of the other two women seated with her.

Kellin shrugged his shoulders, and the Hunter relaxed a little when he perceived the Titan was unsurprised. Shaking the bangs out of his face, the Titan cocked his head to the side and inspected the human Hunter.

It was no great mystery Duncan had never found himself fond of a Warlock; it was something his Fireteam knew all too well. He'd been rather outspoken in his dismissal of the entire Order, excepting of course Amri. And he was never at a loss for words in expressing his desire to see them spend more of their time locked in the archives, rather than mucking up the Crucible with their ridiculous Firebolt grenades and melee over shields.

Duncan knew however, the Titan preferred to think he was just jealous of their thick overcoats.

And their Void Magic.

The truth of the matter, however, was Duncan may or may not have found himself on the wrong side of a Nova Bomb in the Crucible a few times too many to have ever fostered any great love for a Warlock. Watching his friend with a careful eye, the Hunter caught a familiar glimmer in the Titan's eyes that suggested he'd happened upon an idea. Weary and not at all trusting his intentions to be good, the young Hunter took a deep breath as the Titan shook his head.

Hiding a smile by taking another drink of his ale, the Titan smirked, "I don't know. That Warlock sure seems something. I wouldn't mind gettin' to know her if you know what I mean."

Duncan knew what he meant, alright…

And he felt like a rock had sunk to the pit of his stomach, taking with it everything he'd, earlier, so foolishly thought of saying to her to break the ice. Kellin never struggled where he determined to apply his skills with attracting the ladies of Tower. He had a gift. And it seemed only to work for him. When Duncan had condescended to implement some of the techniques he'd seen the Titan practice. Well, the results never seemed to work out the same for him as they did for Kellin.

Recollecting himself, the Hunter decided trying to subtly talk his Titan out of the idea beginning to form in his mind would be the best course of action. Shaking his head, Duncan replied carefully, "Lady's easy on the eyes, maybe, bu' I be' she's one 'elluva liability to whatever Fireteam she's assigned."

"How do you mean?" the Exo interjected, crossing his arms over his chest and not trying in the slightest to hide his irritation at the Hunter's implication.

"Well, 'er size for starters," Duncan paused to clear his throat. "An' you can tell from 'ere she's as flighty as they come."

The Titan and the Warlock shared a skeptical look with one another while the Hunter took an uncomfortable pause to finish his scotch. Duncan had a sneaking suspicion the two of them were in on something together, but he was too preoccupied to worry himself with deciding what it might be. He wasn't sure where he was going to go with this discussion next… maybe it was time to change the subject? Suggest Kellin go over to their table and talk to one of them, hopefully not the Warlock, or something?

"I bet she's worth two of you any day, Hunter," the Titan challenged with a mischievous edge to his tone.

"Easy, Kellin," Amri cautioned, reaching across the table to place a reassuring hand on Duncan's forearm.

The Hunter frowned nonetheless.

This was a new turn in the usual pattern of Kellin's ill-conceived banter.

"Is tha' so?" the Hunter's voice was a note louder than normal, and neither of the men with him would have suspected it was the alcohol. Sticking the point of his knife into the wooden surface of the table just beside the Titan's helmet as a warning, Duncan challenged, "Tha' frail, lithe little thing worth two a me? You've lost yer damn mind, Titan!"

He could feel himself starting to lose his temper as the solar light began to swim through his core.

He could feel it, but after two drinks gone there was little he could think to do about it now. Little he would want to do if the Titan continued along his current line of teasing.

"And I bet she's far better company," Kellin added as further fuel to the Hunter's fire.

"Oh, tha's it," the Hunter growled. As he stood, he pushed his chair away from the table with the back of his dark leather boots. He was up and away from the table in such a flurry of motion his cape whispered behind him in a flash of crimson and ebony. His voice was a low growl behind him as he went, "Only one way ta prove yer wrong."

"Now look what you've done," Duncan could make out the tail end of Amri scolding Kellin.

But the Hunter wasn't listening. Duncan's head was spinning – Kellin, his Titan, had just suggested he'd have taken that little Warlock, a Guardian he'd never even met, from two tables away over him in a fight. After everything they'd been through together. After everything they'd fought and bested.

And had he covered the Titan didn't even know this girl?

Clenching his left hand to a fist at his side, the Hunter grabbed the Warlock's wrist in his right hand and spun her around on her barstool so she was facing him. He was glaring daggers down at her, ready to-well, uhh…

When she looked up at him with her soft grey eyes full of curiosity and chirped a happy, "Hello, Hunter!" up at him, well, he'd forgotten exactly why it was he'd just gone over to her table. He'd completely forgotten about Kellin and Amri. He'd forgotten he was supposed to be angry, challenging her to a few rounds in the Crucible or, um, something…

All Duncan could do was stand there next to her, staring down at her while she looked up at him, and let all the pent-up solar light he'd been building up inside fade into nothing.

"A Gunslinger, eh?"

Snapping out of it, he let go of her wrist like she'd burned him and took a step away from her. Shaking his head in disbelief, he gently pulled his fingers closed over his palm.

Hiding a laugh behind her hand, she pressed her open palm against his chest plate and smiled like she might be the most innocent thing in all the galaxy, "Don't be shy, Hunter! I love Gunslingers."

His heart flipped in his chest, and he pretended her voice wasn't the most magnificent, sweet tenor he'd ever heard in his life. He was already completely lost in the most lovely pair of sea-grey eyes he'd ever seen. What would have been enough?

"It's nice to meet you," she offered, peeling her hand away from his chest to provide it to him in greeting. He could only watch as she bit her lower lip in a way Duncan couldn't decide was more seductive or adorable.

"Hunter!" an amused Titan joined the table now, followed closely by the Warlock. The Hunter felt the Titan's hand press against his back, between his shoulder blades. Shoving him forward again, this time so he was practically standing on top of the Warlock's barstool, the Titan began to explain, "You'll have to forgive his temper, ladies. He wants to challenge your Warlock to a few rounds in the Crucible. It's the only way he can hope to increase his reputation with the Quartermaster, finding women smaller than he is."

Everyone at the table laughed except for the human Warlock and Duncan.

"Oh, is that all?" she sounded disappointed as she lowered her gaze to where she had her hands folded in her lap.

Laughing, the Exo Warlock teased, "So the Hunter wants to become the hunted?"

Quickly defending himself, Duncan hurriedly tried to explain, "No, I-"

"If you'd help him out, we'd be forever grateful to you, Warlock," Kellin interrupted, running his hand through his dark red bangs before picking up her right hand and holding it firmly between both of his.

And Duncan could only watch as she looked across the table to her Fireteam. The Hunter just shrugged, tossing her knife in the air like this interruption to their evening was nothing of interest to her. The other Warlock watched patiently, letting her gaze float between Amri and her friend, seeming to find something about the entire situation amusing.

When Duncan looked back at the Warlock, she was pulling her hand away from Kellin before she shifted her focus back to him. She didn't seem nearly so excited to have him standing next to her as she had a few moments before. Her voice was soft as she offered, "Bailey."

"Wha'?"

"My name is Bailey," she expanded. "You'll need it for tomorrow. You know, to find me in the Crucible."

And he knew he needed to think of something-anything else. This wasn't how he wanted to meet the pretty Warlock a few tables over. Not at all…

"The Crucible?" Duncan asked, watching the Warlock offer Kellin a puzzled glance over her shoulder. Stepping back towards her, the Hunter cleared his throat and defended, "Forgive my manners, Lady Warlock. You see, yer quite a bi' more lovely up close like this. I, uh, wasn' expectin', but tha's not the poin'. I came over to ask if you'd allow my Titan to buy you ladies another round a'drinks."

"What?" Kellin protested, letting his open palm fall between the female Warlocks with a loud thud.

"Well, in that case," the Awoken Hunter suddenly became interested as she leaned towards the Titan and offered him a knowing smirk. "Vodka soda."

"Actually, she'd better not. She's already rather intoxicated," the Exo Warlock interrupted. But Duncan was no longer concerned with their conversation… Instead, his attention had fallen back to the Warlock beside him. He watched her grey eyes brighten and tried to bite back a smile as he looked down at her.

"Bu' I wondered, Bailey," and he paused to take her hand in his, working his thumb into her palm, "Can I call ya Bailey?"

"Of course," she agreed.

"Would ya le' me buy you a drink?"

Out of nowhere at all, a spark flashed in her eyes as she looked up at him and the Hunter felt his heart rattling off of his ribcage like a jump ship breaking orbit. She pulled her hand out of his to place her palm against his chest plate again. Working her left hand to the nape of his neck, she narrowed eyes and pulled him forward so their lips were nearly touching to whisper, "I'll let you buy me a drink if you can beat me in the Crucible."

He smiled, letting his left hand come to cover hers as it rested against his chest. Smirking, he said, "Duncan."

"What?"

"My name is Duncan. You'll need it to find me in the Crucible."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note** : Back again, revising some more. I'd like to leave a special thanks to PashHanin, who happened to be my first constructive review for the story, and everyone else who took the time to leave me a reply. It's really a wonderful thing to hear from readers, so if you're reading for the first time, I'd genuinely love to hear what you think. I'm sorry you won't find out why Duncan has a weird accent in this chapter, but if he can manage to beat Bailey in the Crucible, maybe he'll get a chance to tell her over that drink, eh?

 **Two**

The next afternoon was cool and damp, but it found Duncan heading towards the Hangar with Kellin hot on his heels. The pair of Guardians hadn't spoken about the night they'd had at the bar or the challenge the Hunter had accepted from a Warlock on that same evening. However, Duncan could sense Bailey was the only thing Kellin had wanted to talk to him about all day.

There was only so much to be said about the differences between the pulse rifle Kellin had borrowed from Banshee to test and the one he favored for patrols or missions from the Vanguard. And Kellin had already spent the entirety of their lunch talking about that damned pulse rifle. Duncan couldn't take it anymore.

He knew, of course, it had everything to do with the fact he had invited a lady out for drinks that had the Titan intrigued. And probably the part keeping the Titan so quiet about the situation was the simple fact the lady had only agreed if she could be bested in the Crucible. Oh, yeah, and there was the part about her being a Warlock… historically, not the sort of girl to have ever caught Duncan's eye before. Not that he spent all too much of his time thinking about girls.

Women, where Duncan was concerned, were not a subject the sandy-haired human was completely comfortable with. Certainly not to the extent he was comfortable with his hand cannon or his throwing knives, at least. He had a better track record with guns and ammo than he did with the ladies, though it wasn't like he was actively comparing.

Not for lack of opportunity-the part about women, that is. It wasn't like he was unable to talk to girls. He was just, well, busy with other things. Like hand cannons and throwing knives. And not talking to pretty blonde-haired Warlocks at the bar.

Scratching the back of his head, Duncan considered if their roles were reversed this entire situation would probably be rather relative to the Titan. Kellin had more than his fair share of women; he had no problem finding something interesting about any girl who thought to introduce herself to him. And when the Titan was around, the already slim margin of possibility someone might fancy herself a Hunter like Duncan decreased exponentially.

Whether it was Kellin's good looks or electric personality, people had always been drawn to the Awoken Titan. Duncan considered himself rather lucky to have such an outgoing and confident friend as the crimson haired Awoken. It didn't bother him he wasn't the center of attention like Kellin. In fact, he much preferred his privacy and the hours of isolation he could manage while on his own exploring. They needed one another, him and Kellin; Titan to pull Duncan out of his shell and the Hunter to help smooth over the ripples Kellin would manage to create wherever he went.

And the Titan seemed to agree, mostly.

Their silent acceptance of one another's differences didn't prevent Kellin from offering unsolicited advice about 'Duncan's Girl Problems'. Things like, "You can't stare at her and expect she's going to come over here to talk to you," and "Stand up straight - you're short enough as it is."

For all the small bit of advice he'd actually asked of the Titan in his Fireteam, Duncan couldn't remember a time when any of it had paid off… it was Duncan's pride leading him to his jumpship that afternoon to make good of his promise to Bailey. It was his pride and a subtle sense of hope that maybe there'd be some sort of luck on his side of the arena that day.

And maybe, just maybe, he'd find his evening ended back at the bar sitting across from the silvery-haired Warlock he'd met the night before.

When suspense seemed to finally reach its boiling point and become too much for the Titan to bear any longer, they were rounding the corner into their Fireteam's bay of the hangar. Running a hand through his shaggy crimson bangs, Kellin finally asked, "What's your plan? You're just going to shoot her a few times?"

"Yup," the Hunter replied, reaching out to the lower wing of his jumpship to pull himself up to the cockpit.

"And then she's gonna let you buy her a drink?"

"Yeah," Duncan replied, scratching the back of his head nervously as he pulled his sniper rifle off of his back to secure it safely behind the pilot's seat within the cockpit. "Leas', tha's how I understand it."

"Fuckin' crazy dame, that one," the Awoken Titan shook his head as he crossed his arms over his shoulder.

"Awh, don' call 'er tha,' Kellin," Duncan frowned, turning over his shoulder to point at the box of hand cannon ammunition at the Titan's feet and hoping Kellin would understand. "You 'ad to know she was gonna be a spitfire to 'old 'er own aroun' here."

Pouting, not willing to concede his point that this girl was fucking nuts and his friend was even crazier for entertaining this idea of getting to know her over drinks, Kellin uncrossed his arms and tossed the Hunter the ammunition he was waiting for, "If you're sure about this, seems your point would've been better served if you'd just bought her a drink last night, 'stead of offering me up to do it."

Hopping into the cockpit of his jump ship to begin checking operations before he took off, Duncan laughed at Kellin's sour mood. Sure, he'd sacrificed the Titan's stock of glimmer to save himself a bit of face with Bailey, but he wasn't ready to believe Kellin's support was going to have been for a lost cause. Not before he'd had a go at the Warlock in the Crucible, at least.

Smirking, the sandy-haired Hunter replied, "Serves you righ' fer tryin' to embarrass me."

"Given enough time, you woulda done it yourself," Kellin teased back. The Titan's crimson hair gleamed in the early afternoon sunlight and, as his bangs fell into his amber eyes, Duncan watched as he shook them out of his face.

At a workbench a few paces away from the Titan, Amri was at work repairing a scout rifle which belonged to one of the younger Warlocks he mentored. He didn't look up for the banter being shared between his Fireteam-mates but did offer, "Watch out for this one, mate. I've heard a thing or two about that Warlock and if any of its true, you'll be in a world of hurt next we see you."

Duncan felt himself pale. So much for the unwavering support of his Fireteam.

Kellin laughed.

Taking a deep breath, the Hunter shook his head for Amri's warning. As he finalized his assessment of the jumpship's operations and sent a request for takeoff to the control center, he couldn't think of a proper reply. It was too late to back out now. Not that he would have; probably not, anyway.

Finding no other reason to delay his departure, Duncan eventually replied, "Wish me luck, then."

"Good luck, mate," Amri looked up from his work to give the Hunter an encouraging wave.

"Good luck," Kellin shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest again. Then, for good measure, he decided to throw in, "Don't embarrass me while you're in there!"

Pulling the helmet over his head before tightening the restraints across his shoulders, the Hunter muttered to himself, "Indeed, le's hope I'm no' an embarrassmen'."

The Hunter watched his best friend meander over to Amri's workbench and start peeling through the box of tools the Warlock kept in meticulous order. Watching the Exo smack away the Awoken's hand, Duncan smiled. Although he could no longer make out what was being said over the roar of his jumpship's engine, watching Kellin rubbing the pain from his knuckles did seem to lessen the nerves he felt about the reality of walking into the Crucible for the purpose of, if Amri was to be trusted, getting his ass handed to him.

It was only a few moments more before the craft roared out of Tower's Hangar. Feeling the force pressing his back against the familiar frame of the pilot's seat, Duncan closed his eyes until he felt the shaking lessen and the ride smooth out.

As soon as they were in orbit, his Ghost, Albert, materialized with a message, "It's from her. That Warlock."

"And?"

"She says she's playing Rumble; queued for the arena at Black Shield."

"Tell 'er Mars seems an awful long way to travel," he laughed. "To have a Hunter like me bea' her at Rumble."

"Don't close the door before you're out of the room, Guardian," Albert scolded. And when the Ghost could sense the blank stare he was receiving from his Guardian, he offered as explanation, "Amri was right about her. I've already reviewed her standings with the Quartermaster. She's got a far higher ranking than you do."

Duncan sighed.

And Albert seemed to realize his error as he panned, "Oh. You weren't trying to challenge her at all! You were trying to give yourself a pep talk!"

Raising an eyebrow, which was obscured behind his dark visor, Duncan shrugged his shoulders. There wasn't much to be done about that, any of it, now. She was already expecting him and the last thing the Hunter intended to do was stand her up. But Albert had a point and a better message was probably in order, after all. After a moment of thought, he finally replied, "Alrigh' then. Tell her I wish 'er luck and I'm on my way."

"Discretion is the better part of valor," Albert seemed to agree, sending forward the message. "But, for what it's worth, I think you've got a reasonable chance at victory."

Duncan leaned back in his seat, drawing a deep breath before he finally condescended to ask his Ghost, "So, wha' advice do ya have fer me?"

"Guardian?"

"Yer the one tha' reviewed 'er reputation with the Quartermaster. Don' tell me ya stopped at tha'."

Making a noise like he was clearing his throat, Albert hovered in front of the Hunter and replied sheepishly, "Well, she is a Voidwalker-" and as Duncan felt his shoulders tense of their own accord, the Ghost quickly added, "B-but only recently so! She used to be a Sunsinger. Um, until recently."

"Recen'ly?"

"This past year, she shifted disciplines," Albert clarified. He was no stranger to his Guardian's poor taste for Warlock Void magic, but that didn't mean he had anything useful to offer about how the Hunter might keep himself outside of it's reaches.

"I've gotta think of some way to bea' her, you know," the Hunter sighed.

"Maybe shoot her more times than she shoots you?" Albert replied, laughing at his own perceived humor.

"Well, 'ave you got anythin' useful on how I migh' manage tha'?" Duncan growled.

"Hmm?" Albert's smooth metallic tone hummed over the whir of Duncan's jumpship speeding along its path.

"How am I gonna bea' her?" Duncan reminded.

After a long pause where Albert turned his attention to the ship's central computer, the silver box buzzed happily around his Guardian's head, proclaiming, "She's gotten almost seventy percent of her kills in the Crucible with a hand cannon, Duncan. And over half of the remainder, she obtained with a shotgun."

"So don' get close, eh?"

"Don't get close."

Feeling himself re-materialize after transmat always left a lingering sense of dizziness concentrated at the base of his skull. Before pulling his hand cannon off of his waist, Duncan pressed his fingertips against the place where his helmet met his neck and exhaled slowly. He took a moment to inspect his surroundings, pausing for a moment to consider it was still midday at the Firebase, though it would have been almost sunset by Tower's clock.

As he inspected the barren landscape laid out before him, the Hunter squinted against the sunlight. He was thankful for his visor that it would keep the thick red sand out of his nose and eyes.

"Eyes up, Guardian," Albert cautioned through their shared commlink. "I sense movement; the others are already searching for their first kill."

Duncan needed no further coercing. He sprang into motion, leaping to an elevated section of land on the outer perimeter of the arena. Sensing a flicker of movement from his HUD, the young man drew the sniper rifle from his back and had the mid-range scope trained to his eye in a flash.

When he saw the first Guardian moving towards him, when he recognized the familiar hue of dark blue and crimson in her robes, he felt his heart skip a beat. His finger hesitated where it laid against the trigger.

Bailey…

She'd wandered around a bend in the outer track surrounding the perimeter of the Firebase; she was on the opposite end of the arena from him. The Warlock held her ebony hand cannon trained to the horizon as she moved quickly through her surroundings. If she was counting on her HUD to lead her to Duncan's position, she'd have to rely on her eyes… He had no intention of setting her off to his sniper's perch.

"What are you waiting for, Guardian? Shoot!" Albert pleaded.

Dark brown eyes caught a whisper of green from behind the Warlock's shoulder and without hesitation he switched targets immediately. The slightest pressure against the trigger leveled a Titan. Duncan exhaled a silent thanks the explosive round hadn't managed any harm to the Warlock.

Through the perceived safety of his scope, he watched Bailey turn around to his position. She seemed to hesitate, perhaps caught up in making the decision to attempt out-sniping the sniper with her hand cannon or scrambling for cover. Duncan, of course, already knew he wouldn't shoot her. He'd know it when he had her lined, up, dead to rights, a few moments before. So the pair of Guardians remained still as they considered one another, her out in the open and he not paying any serious mind to the fact they weren't the only two Guardians in this arena.

When his HUD flickered and he noticed a female Hunter rounding a corner on Bailey's right, he took aim and fired a second shot in the Warlock's immediate vicinity. The shot managed to strike the Hunter in the chest. The bullet hadn't resulted in a kill, but he smirked for the realization the Warlock had such quick reflexes. Bailey put herself on the offensive, striking the other woman in the shoulder with a Void-charged melee to steal the kill from him.

"Would you stop flirting and change your position, Guardian?" Albert sighed in exasperation. "She might not be after you herself, but I'd wager that Titan remembers where you are!"

And as though on cue, Duncan felt the sting of a single burst from a pulse rifle rain down over him from his left. Cringing as he evaded the second burst, the Hunter drew his hand cannon and turned to the direction of his attacker. He dropped a grenade behind himself, trying to retreat and regain his bearings before the altercation could escalate any further.

When he heard the tripmine explode, Duncan turned around for the showdown. He sprinted in close, too close for the Titan to make practical use of his pulse rifle, and fired three shots from his hand cannon into the pursuing Titan's chest.

It had been enough to do the job.

The Titan fell forward at the Hunter's feet.

Without pausing to consider where any other Guardians were within the arena, Duncan rushed for a slight inlet near the primary structure of the Firebase for cover. He'd lost track of Bailey and whether she'd followed after him or focused her sights on a different Guardian.

It didn't take long before the Hunter asked his Ghost, "Yer trackin' the score, righ'?"

"Yes, of course! She's already two kills ahead of you."

"Already?" Duncan replied incredulously. He hustled inside the Firebase, careful to keep his attention shifting between his HUD and his surroundings. Locating a reserve of special ammo, the young man threw a tripmine grenade to his left and took the sniper ammo in the crate for himself.

When he heard the grenade explode beside him, Duncan turned around to shoot a single bullet from his hand cannon at the male Warlock who had inadvertently set it off. Wandering forward to pilfer some additional hand cannon ammunition the Warlock had dropped, the Hunter celebrated, "Now the lady's jus' one kill ahead."

"Still two," Albert replied dryly.

"Well, you don' have to soun' so damn excited abou' it," Duncan shook his head, moving into the center of the Firebase. He kept to the left, following the wall around the open portion of the room. He sounded exasperated when he finally brought himself to admit, "I better ge'to work."

"There's an idea," the Hunter's Ghost sounded exasperated.

Duncan gunned down the female Hunter from earlier as he made to exit the Firebase on the opposite side of the arena from where he'd started. She'd had her back to him, so he considered there was probably someone else nearby, despite not finding any indication against his HUD. Pressing his back against the wall behind him, the Hunter moved slowly out and around the Firebase.

He was in another nook at the edge of the base when he heard the footsteps. Someone was running towards him. He turned around just in time to notice the other Guardian, still just out of range, pointing a shotgun towards him.

Bailey...

Sidestepping and reaching out to cause the weapon to misfire over his shoulder, Duncan noticed a Titan was pursuing her. Readying his hand cannon to fire at the charging Titan, Duncan felt the very breath stolen from his lungs. His chest felt like it was collapsing on itself as the Light was being pulled out of him. His heart froze in his chest, missing a beat before he managed to gasp for breath and spur it back to life.

Regardless of his surprise, Duncan reached for Bailey in an attempt to position himself in front of her. If the Titan was going to shoulder-charge anyone, it wasn't going to be the Warlock…

But the Titan fell before he reached the two Guardians beneath the alcove. It was the metallic 'pop, pop, pop' of Bailey's hand cannon, fired three times that brought him down. Feeling his shields beginning to regenerate, the Hunter stood up straighter and turned to look at Bailey. She scrambled forward, reaching out to put her palm over the place she had, earlier, struck him with her melee attack.

"Oh, Duncan," she seemed worried. "I'm sorry! I didn't realize it was you; I panicked!"

Laughing as he wrapped her hand up in his, the Hunter confessed, "Fel' like ya were tryin' to pull my heart righ' outta my chest, Warlock!"

Taking a step closer to him, she replied coyly, "Well, how else would I steal it?"

Duncan smiled, fully aware she couldn't read his expression for the helmet he wore. He knew the answer to her question, or at least how he would plan to go about achieving the accomplishment. But that didn't mean he would be the one allowed to show her.

His heart was racing. Having the Warlock standing so close, knowing she could decide to shoot him at any moment and trusting in blind faith she wouldn't.

It was exhilarating just being near her. Exactly like it had been the night before.

With a burst of confidence he couldn't quite explain, Duncan squeezed her hand gently before pulling away. Nudging her towards the opposite exit of the alcove, the Hunter replied, "I'm no' so sure yer score's high enough I'd le' ya try tha', Lady Warlock. No' ye'."

In reply to his teasing, Duncan barely managed to dodge a warning shot she fired over his shoulder from her hand cannon. When he heard her laugh, he hesitated before deciding to blow her a kiss as he teased, "Good luck, lady!"

"Oh! Go on, you!" she exclaimed, seemingly in no hurry to be along on her way. "Before I decide to make some points out of you."

Duncan left first, ducking out of the shared alcove and into the sunlight. He didn't take the time to check his HUD or glance around at his surroundings and he paid for it dearly with a sniper shot straight to the left side of his helmet. In the brief period of stasis before Albert was allowed to revive him, the Hunter could make out the mumbled sarcasm of his Ghost confessing, "Very smooth, Guardian."

And when the Hunter felt his feet land on solid ground again, Albert added, "I suppose we're both lucky she's a Warlock and not something tainted with Darkness. The way she's got you all mixed up, it'd be the end for both of us!"

"Tha's a bi' harsh, don' ya think, Ghost?" Duncan protested, quick to hurry into the relative safety of the main structure of the Firebase. He had his hand cannon at the ready and was studying some brief flickers against his HUD to try and sense what was waiting for him inside. When he heard the sound of guns firing, the Hunter scurried into the room and managed to pick off both of the Guardian's that had been engaged in a firefight with only five bullets. As he reloaded his gun, he said, "I think this is goin' well."

"Even with those extra points, she's still two kills ahead," Albert dismissed. Then, sensing his Guardian's irritation, the Ghost quickly added, "But you still have five minutes before the round is over."

"Bes' hurry, then," Duncan replied resolutely. He shifted focus back to his purpose of finding the other Guardians in the arena, managing to maneuver into a passable sniper's perch and notch another quick kill.

Waiting a few moments to ensure nothing else was wandering his way, Duncan moved from his position and headed back towards the center of the arena. His radar had briefly flickered in that direction, and he understood time wasn't on his side. He needed to find a faster way of hunting down the other Guardians… so, while close quarters combat wasn't his forte, it seemed his best opportunity.

Wandering into the center of the arena, he managed to pick off one of the male Titans from earlier who was engaged in a firefight with another Guardian. Stealing the kill from a female Hunter, he took two bullets from her scout rifle before her magazine was empty. Duncan emptied his hand cannon and managed to put her down, as well.

"On your left, Guardian!" Albert warned.

Duncan spun around with an empty hand cannon and took the full brunt of the male Warlock's Arc-charged melee attack. He'd been unable to defend himself, and his shields hadn't had a chance to recover from his brief encounter with the female Hunter.

Stasis.

"Couldn't you hear him approaching?"

Duncan could still feel the sting in his chest from the Warlock's Arc attack… or it might have been Bailey's Void magic. Either way, he clung to the final moments of status like a shield, a calm before the storm. And as soon as his feet were on the sand, he was running back towards the Firebase with his hand cannon at the ready.

"I guess not," Albert worried over their shared communication link. "Guardian, it seems you've lost your ability to hear anything from your left ear."

Duncan paused at a crate to obtain special ammo, wondering aloud, "Is tha' so?"

"Don't worry!" Albert urged. "I'll fix it when we get back to Tower. You need to hurry if you're going to make up those last two kills."

Continuing forward, the Hunter dropped a tripmine grenade at the far side of the door he wandered through. Once inside the central room of the Firebase again, he hugged the right wall and followed it towards a pair of double doors that would offer the quickest route back to the center of the arena. Watching a flicker of movement against his HUD from the central portion of the arena, Duncan jumped when he heard his tripmine grenade fire from behind him.

Turning around and pressing his shoulder blades against the wall, the Hunter hit a male Titan with two bullets to manage the kill. And at the same moment, the doors to his right opened… both sets. The male Warlock ran through the door directly to his right; his attention focused on the female Hunter that had run into the room from the doors on the far side.

"Now, Guardian," Albert agreed, reading Duncan's mind.

Taking a deep breath, Duncan channeled his Light into a powerful Solar attack. Rushing forward as he reached for the Golden Gun on his hip, the Hunter fired his first shot. The Warlock fell. A second shot. The Hunter fell.

"Behind," his Ghost managed.

"Bailey?"

He froze, watching her rush into the room from the same door that he'd used to enter.

"Shoot, Guardian!" Albert urged. "You're tied. You shoot her, you win!"

But Duncan lowered his Golden Gun, feeling the final waves of Solar power fading from his limbs. The magical weapon dissipated in his hand and he was left entirely helpless, grappling for the gun on his hip, as he watched her raise her ebony hand cannon…

The first shot hit his lower abdomen, sending a searing pain rushing straight to his chest.

Her second shot hit his shoulder.

And the third?

"Good game, Duncan," she blew him a kiss, lining up her final shot. And when he heard the sound of the gun firing, he closed his eyes and smiled.

She'd won…


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note** : Not sure what to say besides thanks to everyone who has been reading (or rereading) this story. I hope I didn't make you wait too long for an update; I'm still working through my revisions and I hope we'll all be happier for them. Also, thanks to the folks who took the time to leave some kind words. Makes me glad to know you're enjoying the story so far.

 **Three**

"You lost? What do you mean you lost?"

"You heard me," the Hunter replied. "Nothin' to say for it, 'sides Lady Warlock's a grea' shot."

Duncan had just hopped up on the edge of Amri's workbench, removing his helmet to let the Exo Warlock have a look at his ear. The Exo wasted no time before he began to clean away some of the dried blood collecting in the Hunter's ear and spilling down the side of his face. Albert hovered patiently next to the Warlock's Ghost, Edward. When the Hunter turned his head to give Amri a better look, the Exo let out a long, low whistle as he inspected the damage, "Seems like Bailey wasn't the only one that gave you a hard time in there, mate."

"Did you jus' whistle?" Duncan raised an eyebrow as he put his helmet down on the bench to his right. He looked up at the Warlock in his Fireteam with a curious gaze.

"Oh, that's not so bad," Kellin decided, hovering over Amri's shoulder to get a better look at Duncan's injured ear.

"Yes, I suppose I did," Amri ignored the Titan, placing his elbow into the Titan's chest in an attempt to keep him from meddling with the Hunter. Amri had his head cocked at a slight angle to the side as he seemed to be waiting for Duncan to let him know if whistling had been an appropriate reaction in the context of the situation. When he didn't reply, Amri explained, "Kellin has taught me how to whistle."

"An' how, exac'ly, does tha' work?"

Amri and Kellin stopped struggling against one another to offer the Hunter a pair of puzzled expressions.

Duncan, confused, tried to explain, "Y-you don' have lips, Amri."

"Pretty impressive, right?" Kellin smirked, wriggling his eyebrow as he placed one hand on the right side of Duncan's head and pressed a cloth drenched in rubbing alcohol against the Hunter's injured ear.

The pain was intense. Intense and immediate as the Hunter struggled against the Titan, growling an impatient and exaggerated, "Ouch! Kellin that hurts!"

"Oh, you decided to enunciate every syllable that time," the Titan complemented, letting the Warlock take the cloth from his hand. Then, mocking Duncan's accent, Kellin teased, "Ya almos' sounded like a real Guar'ian!"

"You are not helping, Titan," Amri reminded, moving forward to place the rag, this time with a much more gentle hand, against the Hunter's injured ear. Albert and Edward moved forward at this cue and, when the Hunter tensed, it was for his Ghost administering some careful placement of the Traveler's Light which helped him to relax. The Warlock paused in his work and placed a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder. Waiting for Duncan to nod, Amri cleaned the remainder of the dried blood away from his Duncan's ear.

"So, back to you losing," Kellin pressed, taking a seat next to the Hunter on the workbench, so both men had their backs turned to the doorway of their bay in the Hangar.

"Back to me losin'," Duncan nodded, feeling his shoulders droop when he took the time to think about what it meant to admit to it. He supposed luck hadn't been on his side that day, leaving Bailey to be the Guardian nearest to him when he'd needed one last kill. Taking a deep breath, he wished he could go back in time to the night before when he'd had all the liquid courage he'd needed to strike up a conversation with her, and do things differently. Starting with agreeing to meet her in the Crucible.

What time had it gotten to be? Surely it wasn't so late he couldn't convince Kellin and Amri to make a quick trip to Venus and liberate some type of spire or another from being misused by the Vex. Certainly his cause was more just than anything the Vex might fathom. One glance at his Fireteam told the Hunter it was best he not pursue this line of thought. So he frowned and cracked his knuckles.

Was it too late to ask her out like a gentleman?

With a wary gaze, the Hunter watched the Titan raise his arm. Cringing for the feeling of Kellin's elbow in his side and what it had meant for Amri and his mending, Duncan sighed and exaggerated his perfect diction for the Titan's benefit, "That hurts."

"Oh, lighten up, ya big baby," Kellin dismissed by crossing his arms over his chest. His shoulders straightened as his eyes gleamed with mischief for a moment before he leaned forward to whisper something the Hunter couldn't quite understand.

"Wha' did you say?" Duncan asked, noticing the way Amri was shaking his head in disapproval at the Titan.

"You're better off not knowing," Amri replied.

"I asked," Kellin was almost yelling at the Hunter, "If, since you struck out, you'd like a lesson in how to ask a woman out for a drink? Directly; without Crucible games. Like a real man."

"He still can't hear on the left side, Kellin," Albert paused from his work to scold the Titan.

"Oh, I heard him alrigh'!" Duncan muttered to his Ghost as he clenched his hand to a fist at his side but he didn't move. Even despite the direct nature of the taunt, Duncan knew Kellin well enough to understand he was only joking. Poorly and about a subject that still felt like an open wound. Deciding his best course of action was pretending he wasn't bothered by Kellin's antics, Duncan replied, "Wha' do you know abou' how ta be a man?"

Kellin laughed for his appreciation the regular cadence of their friendship was returning. Traveler forbid Duncan had a girl when Kellin didn't, regardless of how many years of a head start the Titan had on his Fireteam-mate. The Titan smirked, patting Duncan a bit harder than was comfortable on the shoulder as he did so, "There's our Hunter! Starting to act like his damn self again. No more chasing pretty girls into the Crucible, yeah?"

"Yes, mum," Duncan rolled his eyes.

Before the Titan could manage another sarcastic comment, Albert whirred forward with Edward right beside him and seemed proud to announce, "All finished, Guardian! How does that feel?"

"Still no' grea'," Duncan frowned, reaching up to touch his injured ear. Tugging on the earlobe, he stretched his neck left and right. After a few more moment's pause, he nodded and agreed, "I can hear jus' fine, though. Thanks, Al. An' you too, Ed."

"Well, since Albert's finally got you back in one piece," the Titan drew a deep breath, holding back a smile. "And since drinks with a certain Warlock aren't in the cards-"

"Who said drinks aren't in the cards?"

It was a new voice, echoing from the doorway leading into their Fireteam's bay of the Hangar. And when they heard it, all three Guardian's straightened and turned to see who had been eavesdropping on their conversation.

Feeling himself start to smile when he recognized the dark blue and crimson robes she'd been wearing in the Crucible earlier, Duncan hopped off of the edge of the workbench. He was pretty content to stand there admiring the way she looked under the dim lights of the hangar until he felt Kellin's elbow hit his ribs again. It was reminder enough he ought to say something to her. So, clearing his throat, he greeted, "Hi, Bailey."

She'd already walked across the room to stand in front of the Hunter by that time. Reaching forward to place her hand on his chest, she smiled as she teased, "You didn't forget about our date, did you?"

"Date?" Kellin muttered to himself as he seemed to be working out all the details. But Amri pulled the Titan to the side and offered him a warning stare threatening enough to keep him both quiet and firmly rooted in place.

Duncan couldn't stop himself from reaching out to lay his hand on top of Bailey's where it rested over his chest. He narrowed his eyes in admiration for the way she seemed to be pouting up at him. Just like the night before when Kellin had told her Duncan only wanted a Crucible match. Her grey eyes glimmered up at him, and he was stricken, again, with the desire to see her smile. After a deep breath, the Hunter reasoned, "You bea' me fair an' square, Lady Warlock. It wouldn' be polite to presume-"

"I know you let me win!" she cut him off, pulling her hand away to point an accusatory finger up at him. The way she looked when she was pretending to be angry with him was irresistible. As she continued, she stomped her heel to the ground to emphasize her point, "So, either we can have a rematch, right now, or we settle it all over drinks. It's your call."

Duncan could hear Kellin whispering with urgency, "Drinks! Pick the drinks, man." But the Hunter ignored him, careful as he took Bailey's hand in between both of his and agreed, "Drinks, I thin', would be grea'."

She smiled, and Duncan laced his fingers with hers. Ignoring the two other men in the room, the Warlock batted her eyes up at the Hunter before smoothing his cape over his left shoulder, affirming, "I think so, too. Shall we?"

Duncan let her lead him out of the Hangar. Over his shoulder, he thought he could make out Kellin's exasperated reaction, "Just like that? He gets a second chance just like that?"

And then Amri's response, "The perks of being a gentleman, I suppose. You know, you might learn a thing or two about how to treat a lady from the Hunter."

Kellin made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat, as he did with many of Amri's proposed theories, but it was the last Duncan heard of his Fireteam for the evening.

Noticing the way she tried to be subtle about her attempt to work her hand back into his after he'd returned with another drink for her, Duncan trailed his thumb over the back of her knuckles. Both Guardians had long ago expended of their gloves, which now lay in a messy pile on top of the table before them. The Hunter moved his chair closer to hers, letting his free arm fall to the back of the Warlock's chair. He leaned over to whisper, "Careful, Lady Warlock; someone migh' think yer startin' to like me."

Leaning forward in her chair and pressing her forehead against his for a fleeting moment, she replied with mock solemnity, "Oh, that would be bad, wouldn't it?"

"Terrible," Duncan smiled, letting himself get lost in her sparkling grey eyes. Without breaking eye contact, he reached out to brush her bangs out of her face before explaining, "A pretty girl like you should 'ave 'er pick of anyone in the Tower."

"Then I suppose it's lucky for me you're in the Tower," she replied with confidence which spurred the Hunter to pull his chair nearer hers again.

"I'm the one tha's lucky, Bailey," Duncan hid his smile with a sip of scotch as he replied. He wanted to be close to her without seeming too forward. Regardless of all the ways she found to tie his stomach up in knots, Duncan had himself convinced it was essential to be a gentleman and the Hunter genuinely believed she ought to be treated the best he knew how. Somehow, he was going to make her his girl. He had never been more certain of anything before.

But did this Warlock ever have a way to make him feel all different sorts of off-kilter…

Not that he'd ever been smooth with the ladies.

Not that he'd ever had them lined up; not like Kellin, at least.

He'd gone with a few lady Guardians since he'd become a Hunter and none of them had even come close to making him feel the way Bailey did. He hardly even knew her, save for the few random facts they'd covered earlier in the evening, but Traveler's Light did he want to.

He wanted to know everything about her.

Even the fragmented information he had, like the way she'd often end up assigned to extra patrols because she lost track of time while reading her books or how she preferred to drink her coffee over ice instead of piping hot, even in the winter, only endeared her further. Never enough and always promising something more; it was just a taste of everything she was. It all seemed so simple, the studious Voidwalker who enjoyed her time in the Crucible more than in the field. But there was so much more to her and Duncan wanted to understand it all.

What was her favorite hour of the day? Did she like to spend her time outside under the sunlight? Is that how she got the soft dusting of freckles across her nose? Where had she learned how to make his heart skip a beat just by blinking her eyes up at him? Or hadn't she realized she could do that?

Nothing had ever felt so straightforward and confused at the same time. It was like the Warlock had managed to work her way behind his defenses with her warm smile and melodic laugh. And he hadn't even noticed until she was already there on the other side with him, trying to keep her hand in his and thinking he didn't see the way her chair was always inching ever closer.

The way it felt when their fingers were intertwined… And all of that just from holding her hand.

Finding the smooth material of his cape, Duncan watched the way Bailey ran the dark black fabric between her fingertips. Her eyes met his and Duncan couldn't decide if she was trying to be so damn adorable or if it was all by accident. Her voice was soft, and her lips seemed to pout as she whispered, "You're very quiet, you know?"

"Well, wha' would you like me ta say, Lady Warlock?"

"Let's talk about your accent, Duncan," she smiled, dropping his cape to take his hand, instead. "Are you Irish?"

"Close, bu' guess again," he teased, reaching for his glass of Scotch. Shaking it so the ice skimmed around the bottom so it might capture her attention and offer her some form of a hint, the Hunter cleared his throat. Then Bailey smiled, and Duncan put the glass back on the table without taking a drink. He was frozen, marveling at how she could make him forget to breathe for a moment with just her smile.

Narrowing her eyes as she seemed to be searching him for the correct answer, Duncan noticed the way she bit back a smile, like she had found what she was looking for, before declaring in her proudest voice, "Scottish! You're Scottish."

"Yes, ma'am," Duncan nodded. "My Ghost foun' me in the Cairngorms in the middle o' winter seven years ago. Amri, my Fireteam's Warlock, foun' me not long after tha'; brough' me back to Tower. Wha' abou' you, Bailey? Where are you from?"

"Not Scotland," she laughed, tucking a bit of her bright hair behind her ear. Under the dim light of the bar, her hair seemed to glow around her head like a halo. After a thoughtful sip of her pale ale, the Warlock added, "My Ghost found me two years ago beneath the Ishtar Collective on Venus. We hailed a ride back here to the Tower with my Fireteam's Warlock, Karina."

Reaching out to ruffle her hair, Duncan teased, "Only two? Bailey, you're so young!"

"Not _so_ young!" she protested, laughing as she pretended to be exasperated and swat at the Hunter's shoulder. Her tone was light and playful as she suggested, "Maybe you're just old?"

"Not _so_ old!" Duncan smiled, throwing a small bit of her teasing back in her direction. He caught her hand before she could pull it away, bringing the back of it to his lips. And when he heard her breath catch in the back of her throat, and she looked up at him, taken aback that he'd managed to catch her off guard, the Hunter pressed his forehead to hers.

His left hand still held onto hers but he brought his right to rest against her collarbone. His fingers were careful in how they cradled the nape of her neck. Their eyes were locked, and Duncan could feel he was holding his breath, but so was she. Gently, he laced his fingers through her hair, letting his thumb trail across her temple. Her free hand worked its way against his chest, and the Hunter smiled.

There was chemistry here; Duncan could feel it.

"Just kiss me already, would you!" and it was a statement, rather than a question. She had demanded it. Which was rather convenient, considering he'd wanted to do exactly that since he'd run up on her in the Crucible earlier that afternoon.

Duncan was happy to give the lady, his lady, precisely what she asked.

Tilting her head upwards the slightest bit with a gentle motion of his wrist, Duncan watched her close her eyes. She was starting forward, leaning towards him, and the Hunter wondered if she could hear the way his heart was pounding in his chest. Could she feel it under his chest plate?

He thought to admire the way her dark eyelashes splayed across her cheekbones, which were flushed a soft shade of pink from the few drinks she'd already had. Her bangs fell out of her face, and Duncan decided she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in all his life. Before or after the Traveler had chosen to reforge him with Light. He squeezed her hand, feeling the way her fingers wrapped around his.

Closing his eyes, he let his lips fall over hers.

Duncan kissed her, slow and careful, wondering why he hadn't expected she would be so warm. Why hadn't he known she was going to fit so well in his arms? Why did it all of a sudden feel like he was right where he was supposed to be? He'd been surprised, taken aback by the sensation that everything about this woman was drawing him in. Lost in his desire to deepen the kiss, Duncan pulled his hand out of hers to let it fall to her waist and slide around to the small of her back.

She made a small noise caught somewhere between a sigh and a gasp as Duncan decided to pull her closer still. He'd never given a woman a kiss like this, never been kissed like this, and he certainly hoped Bailey hadn't been either.

He thought, for a brief moment, of the way her nails felt sliding through his sandy-blonde hair but ignored the chills that ran down his spine when he felt her tongue press against his lips. Duncan recognized he was losing control of the situation, and Bailey was taking over, but the way it felt when her tongue swept into his mouth was… everything. All that mattered and the only thing he could concentrate on. She was clouding his mind, making him lose all sense of reason.

When a myriad of supportive whistles from strangers he would never know rang through his ears, Duncan tried to remind himself she'd only asked him for one kiss, and this one was… well, this one was well on its way to becoming more than that.

Slow and almost reluctant, the Hunter pulled his lips away from hers and opened his eyes. She was already looking at him, surprised perhaps, to find she'd somehow managed her way into his lap. But when a mischievous smile threatened to spill across her features, she caught it at the last moment. Bailey leaned even closer to ask, "And just where do you think you're going, Hunter?"

"Goin'?" but before he could finish his sentence, Bailey had leaned forward to kiss him again. She whispered a soft sigh into his ear, and her arms were around his neck; her lips had managed to find the tender place behind his ear. Without thought, Duncan's hands were on her waist, pulling her body against his. When he felt her teeth teasing the skin of his neck, he couldn't hide his shudder for the chills that raced down his back.

"Are you cold?" she asked, letting her right hand move to caress the side of his face. Bailey was entirely intentional about what she was doing to him; the Hunter could read it in her eyes as they glimmered down at him. She kissed all of the places that her hands left slowly, with great care. Her hands were warm, soft; when Duncan realized she'd employed the power of her Solar magic to warm them, he pulled away to catch one of her hands and hold it out between them both.

"Now, wha's this abou'?" he teased, feeling his heart rising in his chest when the sweet sound of her laughter reached his ears. He'd have to remember to thank Albert for repairing his hearing; her laughter was a sound he knew he'd never get tired of hearing. When Bailey didn't reply, Duncan asked, "Where's the Lady Voidwalker? I was quite fond of 'er."

"Well, for now, I want to be the Sunsinger," Bailey replied. And, though she had moved a bit closer and was still smiling at him, the Hunter thought he could read a bit of irritation evident in her tone.

Lacing his fingers with hers, Duncan teased, "Can I have you both?"

Duncan watched her eyes light up for a moment as she seemed to consider what he'd just said to her. He decided it had been the right thing to say when he watched her lean in closer to him and press her lips to his. Offering his hand a gentle squeeze, Duncan took it as his cue to make a move. The Hunter folded her up in his arms, whispering, "Can I see you again, Bailey?"

"You're seeing me right now!" she protested, closing her eyes before going after his lips again.

"Yeah," he agreed, kissing her forehead as both of his hands found her biceps. He pinned her arms to her sides and met her with a serious gaze, "Bu' I like you an' I wanna know I'll ge' ta see you again."

Bailey smiled, confessing, "I like you, too."

"I know," the Hunter smirked, resting his forehead against hers.

"I want to see you again, too," she whispered with her lips hovering just over his.

Duncan shivered, watching the way she batted her eyes up at him like she had no idea what the effects of her charms could lead to. Brushing her bangs out of her face, the Hunter asked, "How abou' tomorrow, then?"

"Oh, you're something else, Hunter!" Bailey smiled, bringing her free hand to his cheek. She paused there for a moment before lacing her fingers through the soft hair at his temple. Quietly, she promised, "Keep playing your cards right, and I think you'll like where you end up."

"An' where's tha'?" he asked, letting his lips brush against her ear. He watched her features brighten as a smile replaced the fixed expression she'd held him under. Emboldened by the scotch, he leaned forward to add with a confident tone, "With you, I hope."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** I'm still here revising. Don't mind me. But can I just say, revising this story has made me really miss some of the places in Destiny 1… Bungie, can we please go back to the moon?

Duncan did see Bailey again the next day. And the so many of the days after, as often as he was able, until weeks found a way to become months and all of those months stacked up to amount to something more than a year. He'd find excuses to accompany her to the library and to the archives, to the Crucible and along on her patrols. Even those patrols her Vanguard saw fit to assign for her tardiness or on those days she spent too long reading. They returned often to the bar where they first met to sit at the same table where they'd shared their first drink. Duncan took Bailey to the City, to the old Ishtar library on Venus, and to the Reef. He took her everywhere she'd let him.

He was nearing subconscious in his searching, always, for new reasons to see her until it became evident how perfectly the pieces of his life might fit right alongside all the pieces of hers. They were good together; Bailey for all of the ways she found to add a little bit of whimsy to the monotony and the structure of the Hunter's life and Duncan for how deeply, how utterly he cherished her.

He reckoned he'd never been in love before he met Bailey. Not really, anyway. Everything he'd ever known how to feel from before paled in comparison to these new feelings he harbored for this bright, spunky Warlock with a face like an angel but a temper like a Hydra. They weren't as volatile in their relationship as Kellin was in most of his; Duncan was the calm to Bailey's storm, but for every point on which they disagreed, the Hunter always managed to find a way to make things up to his Warlock.

If his love was likened to a storm then Duncan felt for Bailey like a hurricane; all force and spirit and intensity. It was like poetry, though Duncan had never really found a way with words. He couldn't imagine what his life would have amounted to, all his years in the Traveler's service, if he'd never followed after her into the Crucible that fated afternoon. Or if she hadn't wandered down to his Fireteam's bay of the hangar to demand he make good of his promise to buy her a drink.

A lot of things had changed, of course, over the many months he'd gotten to know Bailey. Kellin had been through three ladies before realizing his place was beside Reyka, the Hunter of Bailey's Fireteam. And while out patrolling through the former Ishtar Academy, Amri had found an entirely new sort of Guardian to take under his wing; a Hunter named Ashari, or Ash, as she preferred for them to call her.

They'd lost Karina-16, the other Warlock from Bailey's Fireteam, in the time that passed them all by.

The Tower had extinguished the threat of Crota under Eris Morn's patient watch and had turned their focus on Skolas, Queen Mara Sov's bane who had escaped from her prison in the Reef. Things were far from quiet for Duncan and his Fireteam. Darkness would not so easily be snuffed out, even when faced with the unrelenting power of the Traveler's Light.

Always, there was a shadow.

It was in the beginning of Oryx's rise Duncan first noticed the change in Bailey. It had started as dark circles beneath her eyes and a certain sort of nervous, anxious tension she carried through her shoulders. She seemed to smile less often, only when she knew he was watching her. Bailey grew quiet and more reserved, even when it was just the two of them, her and him. She spent longer hours scouring through the archives and lessened her availability to the Vanguard for standard patrols or an occasional strike.

Duncan would wake in the night and find her still awake long after he'd have expected her in bed. Often, he'd find her sitting at his desk and scribbling careful notes into the margins of old texts with only the dim light of her Ghost as aid. He loved seeing her so passionate and focused on her work, but when he noticed she started growing paler, thinner the Hunter began to worry.

She wouldn't tell him what she was searching for those long hours into the night and when he pressed her for information, she would confess only vague details with a reluctance that burned some place deep within his own heart. He'd gathered it was about the Hive and an old legend she'd overheard in a common space within the archives. There was nothing he could do to help, she promised; eventually she'd figure it all out in her own time.

The Hunter knew she was telling him the truth.

A single glance at the vast expanses of her notes would detail the scattered musings of the young woman's mind; mysterious Hive crystals imbued with power, lost long before the fall of Crota, and an unending list of Warlocks. Everything amounted to the summation of countless hours of research on Hive Wizards and their sorcery. Most of the texts she poured over had belonged to them, ancient Warlocks who had found and lost their light so long before her time. Their names might have been forever lost to the archives if she hadn't been so interested.

Bailey wasn't whispering guarded secrets to herself like Eris Morn, but there remained a silent fear he would never bring himself to voice aloud she might start…

She wouldn't talk to him about it, any of her research, in more than nebulous, unrelating details until eventually her nightmares began. Terrible, savage images which threatened her sleep and caused her to shiver in the night. Bailey eventually opened up when Duncan asked her what she could possible dream about so terrible she would wake suddenly in the middle of the night. He told her he understood the way she chose to bury the burden of her responsibility to protect the Light. He knew it was fear keeping her awake in the night.

When confronted with such compassion as the Hunter had managed, Bailey opened up like she'd been waiting for him to ask these questions all along. The night she first talked about it they'd been asleep in his bed when a terror roused her from her sleep, and him with her. Duncan had whispered to her through the silence, "Tell me wha's wrong, Lady Warlock; s'too early fer ya to be awake already."

He felt her frame, already curled up against his, tense before she tucked her head underneath his chin like she might ignore the question. He folded a strand of silvery hair behind her ear and kissed her temple, marveling at how she could look so lovely when bathed in the dimmest flicker of moonlight. Bailey responded by running her hand across Duncan's chest and brushing his collarbone with her lips.

Shivering for how cold her hands were even with the thin material of his t-shirt separating them, Duncan tilted her chin up with his hand so he could watch her expression when she answered him, asking, "Another nigh'mare?"

"Yes," she whispered, turning away from his hand to bury her face against his neck.

But he'd caught the slightest traces of fear evident in her eyes before she'd managed to look away. Wrapping her up in his arms and pulling the threadbare quilt up and over their heads to keep the rest of the world out, the Hunter kissed her temple again, this time on the opposite side, murmuring, "Tell me abou' it. Migh' help you back to sleep if you share some of the burden with me."

She shivered, and the Hunter warmed his hands with Solar Light. Duncan was careful about the way he warmed her up. He let his left hand fall to rest on her waist, but Bailey only burrowed further into him.

"Bailey?"

"It felt real this time," she sighed. "Like I was looking into the future; it felt like-" and here she paused to wind her fingers through the Hunter's shaggy hair. Her eyes met his and he could still read fear but now anguish had joined the mix. Bailey didn't elaborate any further on what she'd seen.

"Well I hope tha' future you saw still had me in it," he teased, trying to lighten the mood and help her relax. She sighed, and Duncan pressed a gentle kiss behind her ear. When she didn't answer right away, the Hunter laughed, "Well, if I wasn' still there, we'll rewrite the future. I've found ya and nothin's gonna keep me away now."

"I killed you, Duncan," she whispered. Pressing her palm to his cheek as she cradled the side of his face with a tenderness the Hunter recognized was rare to see from her. Bailey's voice shook when she added, "In my dream. It-it didn't feel like an accident. I was-"

"You've killed me plenty before, both as the Voidwalker and the Sunsinger," he smirked, letting his forehead come to rest against hers. "Still 'ave a few of the scars to prove it."

"Duncan, would you be serious?" she pleaded through the silence of the Hunter's bedroom. She had her arms wrapped around him, clinging to him like everything in the entire universe would melt away if she would let go. "This time was different. We weren't in the Crucible. What happens i-if I'm really meant to-"

He kissed her forehead, both of her cheeks, and settled on her lips. Duncan's arms snaked around her waist, and his left hand cradled the nape of her neck like she would break if he let her go. His eyes rested on hers, and he met her with a level gaze; his voice was confident, "It'll be alrig', Bailey. It was jus' a dream."

He'd known she was upset. And he would have liked to say he understood why she'd been so worked up about it, but Duncan had never been one to put too much faith in mystical practices. A dream was a dream, no matter how terrifying things got. If she killed him, even outside of the Crucible, it wasn't something his Ghost couldn't fix.

Before that conversation, he hadn't imagined the nightmares might have been a result of her research; all the fatigue from her late nights coupled with the ominous, dark shades promised from the prophecies of Warlocks with strange names like Alastor and Toland. But as the thought dawned on him, he asked her through the darkness, "These nigh'mares have anything to do with yer, um, research?"

"Yes. Everything."

Feeling her morose tone as though it were a weight against his chest, Duncan squeezed the Warlock's small frame closer to his and sighed, "I love you, Bailey. You know tha', yeah?"

She nodded against his chest. The Hunter felt Bailey's breath catch in her lungs. He could feel that her breath was shaky as she wrapped her fingers around the soft material of his t-shirt sleeve, pulling it tight around his bicep. Her hand tightened to a fist and she clung to the sleeve of his shirt like the force alone could ease all of her troubles.

"You should know I'm ready to listen when you're ready to tell me wha' you're looking for," he whispered. "And I'll help you if I'm able."

She nodded again, this time whispering, "I don't deserve you."

It was a few weeks later the duo found themselves patrolling the Moon with Amri. They were deep in the caverns below the Hellmouth, chasing husk flakes for something Master Rahoul had in the works. It hadn't been a terrible or difficult assignment but it had been necessary to stray rather far from the beaten path. Or, rather further than they might have gone on a normal day to retrieve such simple reward from such common enemies.

Amri was in front, leading the others with quiet footsteps, meant not even to disturb the dark liquid pooling so far beneath the moon's surface. The trio hadn't seen a single Hive enemy in almost an hour or another Guardian in somewhere around two. To say their group was tense would have been a terrible understatement…

Something wasn't right; hadn't been for quite a while.

"Duncan?"

"Yeah?" the Hunter turned to his right, looking up at the Exo with his puzzled expression hidden behind the shaded hood of his helmet. Amri's voice had caught him off guard; the Hunter's mind had been adrift. He'd let his thoughts wander and hadn't been concentrating on where he was being led.

"Where's Bailey?"

"Righ' here-" he stopped midway through the thought. When he turned to his left and looked behind him, he was faced with the terrifying realization the Warlock was no longer with them.

His heart sank at the same time as his stomach began winding itself up in knots. Bailey was missing. She wasn't still following behind him. Duncan tried to remember when he'd last known she was still there, but the stress of knowing he couldn't remember only wound him up more tightly still. On the brink of panic, he managed to collect himself in the last moment.

"She was jus' here," he reasoned, taking a few paces towards the Exo before turning at a sharp angle and starting back in the direction they'd just come from.

"Are you sure?" Amri asked. He had his hand on Duncan's shoulder, holding him in place before he could dart down the corridor they'd just come from. "Just slow down a minute, mate. I know you're worried but the Darkness is heavy this far beneath the surface. It's fogging my sensors and I can tell it's affecting you, too."

And Duncan understood with an immediacy which left him feeling ill at ease Amri hadn't been leading them forward for husk flakes, not recently. He'd been just as lost, just as caught up in the path forward as Duncan had been. As, perhaps, Bailey had been. Both of their minds had been wandering. He knew with a strange sense of certainty they were lost and even worse, they were separated from Bailey.

"Can you remember how long it's been since you last saw her?"

He couldn't.

He couldn't remember anything except how natural it had been to put one foot before the other and follow after Amri. Like he'd been bound to do it. Like an invisible force drawing him deeper into the Hellmouth.

Taking a deep breath to clear his head of worry, Duncan kicked at the ground with the toe of his boot and frowned at the way white grit settled into lines worn into the dark leather. Getting worked up wasn't going to help Bailey but neither, he knew, would wasting time. Summoning his Ghost without a word, Albert whirred to life.

As the familiar white light flickered through the room, casting an eerie shadow in all of the places the Light could not reach, Duncan shivered.

"Guardi-"

"Shh!" Duncan hissed, holding a finger up in front of his helmet, over the place his lips would have been. Careful yet precise, the Hunter placed his hand against the wall of the cave right beside him. He listened to the silence that followed, closing his eyes.

"Guardi-"

"I heard it," Amri muttered, cutting off Albert with a whisper hardly loud enough for Duncan to hear. He'd summoned his Ghost in the time that had passed, and Edward whirred to life beside Albert.

It had been a soft sound, but familiar. The clicking, scraping noise made by a Thrall… A Thrall feasting on the Light.

"Tha' way?" Duncan asked, pointing down the corridor from which they'd come.

"Can't say, mate," Amri kept his voice low, pulling his hand away, so Edward was forced to hover beside his shoulder. "We must move quickly. Before they realize we're here."

Without requiring instruction, Albert and Edward silenced all external communication measures, leaving the Guardians linked to only one another. Duncan drew his hand cannon, watching Amri ready a pulse rifle. Every sound, no matter how subtle, seemed to echo in an endless downward spiral through the empty caverns.

Duncan led the way backward, back the way they had come, back to the surface. He used no words despite the efforts of his Ghost to keep any sound he'd wish to share silent to everything but Amri. The Hunter moved through the empty caverns with a quiet, almost unnerving, sense of precision.

Unsure if it was the Darkness or the extreme feeling of guilt he felt pressing against his chest, the Hunter found it hard to breathe. Sure, he trusted his girl to look after herself, it wasn't like he tagged along everywhere she went, but it had taken Amri snapping him out of the hypnotic trance he'd been under to make him gain awareness of himself again. The only other thing down here to find Bailey was the Darkness.

As soon as the thought entered his mind, Duncan pushed it aside. He would find her. He or Amri would find Bailey first. Before anything bad could happen to her. He continued his search, careful to keep his attention focused and not let his mind wander. When the Guardians reached a fork in the path he hadn't noticed before, on their way down, the Hunter sighed, "Looks like we par' ways here, my friend."

"I don't like the idea," Amri confessed, running one of his gloved hands over the textured surface of the cave wall. But when the shriek of a Hive Wizard cut through the silence from behind them, or possibly in front of them, the Exo pulled back his shoulders and straightened where his spine might have been. The Warlock agreed with haste, "But there isn't much choice."

"If you find 'er, send word," Duncan instructed, checking his hand cannon to be certain it would be ready when he needed it. "We'll mee' in Orbit, once one of us has 'er."

"Good luck, mate," Amri replied. A slight nod of his head was confirmation enough for the Hunter he had agreed.

Duncan took the path leading left while Amri went right. The caverns grew darker the further down he descended. Darker and more silent. There was no sign of the Thrall he could have sworn he'd heard earlier. Just a silence so deep he had no choice but to listen to his own blood rushing through his ears.

For how long he traveled, Duncan was as unsure as he was uncomfortable. He started to doubt whether Bailey could have gone so far on her own. Wouldn't she have turned back? Wasn't she looking for him?

"Eyes up, Guardian," Albert indicated. He was shining a steady beacon of white light down the dark corridor. But on the left, a bleary yellow-green light was emanating from the wall. "What's that?"

When Duncan realized he hadn't remembered when it had become necessary for his Ghost to light their way, his left hand clenched to a fist at his side. He must have been nearing a depth similar to where he'd been earlier with Amri; where the two Guardians had realized they'd lost Bailey. He was struggling to maintain focus.

The clicking, scraping of a hungry Thrall echoed from behind him, just to his right. Before Albert could turn around to illuminate the area they had just moved through, Duncan captured the Ghost in his left hand and, with expert precision, extinguished their only source of light.

The Thrall shrieked, and Duncan wondered if it was louder because there were so many corridors for the noise to echo through or if Albert's most recent adjustment to his hearing hadn't been as in-tune as he'd boasted. Despite the darkness, the Hunter turned on his heel and ran.

He needed to find a place where he could better measure what he was up against. Using his Ghost would be like flashing a beacon to whatever Light hungry creatures were lurking through the shadows but hadn't yet realized he was there. So he ran towards the corridor with the yellow-green light.

He could almost remember a theory he'd overheard in passing, back at the Tower when he'd spent an afternoon the archives with his personal favorite member of the Warlock Order. From one Warlock to another, explaining how she believed the Thrall from deep within the Hellmouth weren't accustomed to Light in any form. Then the other, calling her a fool as he explained all Thrall were drawn to Light in every form. He hoped the female Warlock was right because he needed something better with which to see. Without it, he could not gather a good sense for how many Thrall were following behind him. Or find an adequate place to hide because it seemed entirely possible that was his best option.

Whether it was a correct estimate of the number of enemies following him or just an illusion of the echo, it felt like hundreds of Thrall were shrieking behind him. And Duncan knew better than to risk a standoff so far from the surface. With his luck, the number of his enemy would be closer to three hundred than the mere three he was hoping for.

Sprinting forward, no longer concerned for the noise his boots were making as they splashed through puddles, hurried over rock, and pounded against the ground, Duncan could feel his breathing began to labor. His heart was racing, blood was rushing, but he was almost there.

Just a little further and he would be safe around the corner.

At the exact moment he rounded the corner, a single gunshot rang out over the sound of the Thrall. Duncan felt a sharp pain pierce his right shoulder. He fell over to his side, onto his knees, unsure if he ought to look at whatever had shot him or keep his focus on the collection of Thrall still licking at his heels.

With his left hand clutching at his injured shoulder, the Hunter cringed for the feeling of a, well, a something protruding from his shoulder. He wasn't sure where his mind ought to have been, but he knew it shouldn't have been on the bullet. He crawled away from where the Thrall would be coming from and turned over onto his back. Shuffling backward towards whatever relative safety he assumed from a thing that had just shot him; the Hunter found a mere six Thrall standing over him.

But they didn't approach.

They were moving, writhing in their frustration to have at the defenseless Guardian crawling through the dirt. But still, they didn't approach. All six of the grey creatures stood on the opposite side of the threshold. They seemed to fear whatever it was they found standing over the Hunter.

It wasn't until that moment Duncan thought he maybe ought to feel the same way.

With a slow and nervous apprehension, the Hunter turned to glance over his shoulder. There was a dark figure standing over him and, he frowned for the realization, a menacing looking ebony gun pointed for his gunmetal grey helmet.

The figure was entirely robed in black, silhouetted against an altar of green and yellow crystals which had been carved from floor to ceiling in the massive cavern. Because the light was focused behind the figure, her as a working point of reference, it was impossible to make out whether the robes she wore were black or whether it was a trick of the shadows.

Duncan inhaled a slow breath, feeling his chest shake. He had his left hand outstretched in front of him like it might dissuade the figure standing over him from firing her weapon on him again. But it wasn't until Albert hovered away from his Hunter's grip the Guardian realized he'd never let his Ghost go when he'd turned to run.

A Thrall screamed from behind him, and the Hunter flinched.

"Don't be frightened; they won't come any nearer unless I will them so," a high pitched and eerie voice emanated from the woman's slight figure. Then she followed it with a laugh so piercing Duncan covered where his ears would have been on instinct. It had done very little good. The sound of her laughter penetrated every crevice of the cavern and echoed long past the moment she'd grown silent. So foreign, yet so familiar…

Chancing a nervous glance up at her, Duncan was thankful Albert had turned his Light on this new threat. The Hunter reached forward in disbelief, clutching the tattered ends of a Warlock's robe. Crimson and blue. He hesitated before asking, "Bailey?"

The woman visibly started.

She gasped, dropping the gun to the ground and clutching at her chest with both hands. Bailey fell to her knees in front of Duncan, panting like her breath had been stolen away. He could hear every bit of her fear and regret in her voice when she replied, "Duncan? Oh, Duncan, did I hurt you? Are you alright?"

But before he could even think to reply, the Thrall from the doorway screamed. Whatever had been holding them at the threshold, whether it had been Bailey or whatever spell she'd been under, seemed to have been lifted. Three of the creatures were making tentative progress forward, as though testing whether or not they could cross the threshold.

Duncan pulled the Void grenade off of Bailey's belt and positioned himself between her and the enemies. He tossed the grenade at the ground and watched as two tracers from her Axion Bolt finished off the nearest two Thrall. He felt at his waist for his hand cannon but was unable to locate it.

The third Thrall was getting nearer, sprinting at them now. Duncan threw his field knife into the creature's head, and it fell to the ground with a loud thud.

Behind him, Bailey had picked up her hand cannon and fired three shots at the final three Thrall. Her aim was precise, and their enemies fell.

"Sorry fer stealin' yer grenade," Duncan teased, crawling over to where the Warlock was seated. When she didn't respond right away, he elaborated, "Wasn' sure when I'd have another chance to use an Axion Bolt."

When Bailey didn't laugh, Duncan reached out for her hand which she pulled away from him. She wasn't looking at him, he noted. And she wasn't holding her hand cannon any longer. The ebony gun was lying on the ground in the space between them.

When he watched her pull her arms around herself, and he thought he saw her shoulders shake, he whispered, "C'mere, Lady Warlock. Shh, shh; I go' ya. We're alrigh'."

He didn't wait for her to move closer, Duncan wrapped her up in his arms without another word. When he felt her frame lean into his and realized she'd wrapped her arms around his waist, he let the edge of his helmet click against the top of hers. As he glanced over her shoulder, the Hunter noticed a corpse; a Hive Wizard lying in a pool of blood.

Careful so as not to startle her, the Hunter pulled the Warlock into his lap making certain she wouldn't have to be reminded of what had happened here before they'd found one another. He was starting to realize, he thought, what had had her so on edge. If she'd taken down that Wizard all on her own… He couldn't keep the proud smile from flashing across his face. Pulling her a little closer, he thought, 'Tha's my girl. And here I was runnin' from a few Thrall!'

"This was just how I'd dreamed it," she whispered. Her body was rigid, and she had her fingers wrapped up tight in his cape. Duncan could tell her heart rate was elevated and her breathing was heavy; he always set his sensors to track her vitals alongside his own. She was terrified; all fear and weariness and adrenaline.

"Shh, we're both alrigh' now," he tried to console her, unsure if anything he'd say might help or hinder. Though he didn't know the entire story, he could understand she was upset.

"Duncan, take me home."

"Yeah, of course," he replied, holding onto Bailey just a little bit tighter. Then he summoned his Ghost, murmuring, "Al, you heard the lady!"

"Guardian, if I may," Albert whirred to life at the edge of Duncan's peripherals. He didn't wait to be acknowledged before he pressed on, "I've notified Amri you have located Miss Bailey. But please brace for transmat. We have very little Light so far beneath the surface, but I've got to get us all out of here."

"Hold on, Lady Warlock," Duncan whispered to Bailey, smiling when he felt her grip around his waist tighten. At the last possible moment, he grabbed the hand cannon she'd left on the ground between them.

He might have lost his gun, but Bailey wouldn't be losing hers...


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Sorry this chapter took so long to write. I needed to progress the story but I wanted to be sure I was setting up for everything that will happen next. Thanks for being patient. Mature content at the end but you'll see it coming long before you need to stop reading if you prefer to skip. Rating was adjusted. Don't like don't read.

"This way, Duncan."

He opened his eyes to the sound of her voice and the feeling of her hands working their way under his arms, wrapping around his waist in her feeble attempt to help him to his feet. Duncan couldn't be sure if the way he felt, dizzy with a strong side of nausea, was the effect of transmat or somehow related to the bullet still lodged in his shoulder. Letting the Warlock hoist him to his feet, Duncan did his best to steady himself against the wall beside him instead of against her shoulder.

When he realized she was leading him to the back of Amri's jumpship and a cot strategically placed there for situations just like his current one, Duncan closed his eyes. He let Bailey help him lay back against the rough canvas cover but he didn't ask her to explain.

"Oh Duncan," she worried to herself; and when he opened his eyes, the Hunter offered her a weak smile. She was pulling the thick gloves she wore into the field off of her hands, letting them fall off of the the edge of the cot to land on the floor. She made a place to sit down on the edge beside him, but was still muttering worriedly to herself. Placing a hand over his forehead to straighten his bangs away from his eyes, Bailey's breath caught in the back of her throat, "You're burning with fever."

Her hands had been ice cold.

Duncan pulled away, looking up at her before he closed his eyes again. He listened to her voice, "Hold still. This might hurt," but keeping his eyes closed hadn't helped keep the grimace from crossing over his sharp features in the slightest.

She'd tried to be gentle, he knew, when she made to pull the bullet out of his shoulder. She'd tried to give him adequate warning, an opportunity to try to convince her to leave it until he could visit the infirmary. When he felt the familiar comfort of Amri's jumpship leveling out after it had broken orbit, Duncan opened his eyes again and offered his Warlock a weak smile. With his left hand, he reached out and squeezed her forearm with a gentle hand, trying to comfort her, "Tha' wasn' so bad. Had me all worked up for noth-"

She wrenched a thorn out of his shoulder, careful of the way she drew it out to prevent the barb from catching, tearing, or dealing worse damage yet to her poor Hunter's shoulder.

"Ow," the blonde muttered after he'd calmed himself down; feeling all the dull embers of pain starting to dissipate as his gaze began to refocus. When he was able to make out, once again, the familiar form of Bailey sitting beside him on the edge of the cot, he caught himself wondering how in the world he'd gotten so lucky to have a girl like her.

He could see she was worried. Her brow was furrowed but her grey eyes looked down on him with such a soft wash of tenderness he couldn't help but try to smile. She summoned her Ghost and Duncan watched his flutter forward to join them.

His shoulder burned like nothing he'd felt before in all his lives and he thought to wonder why it was he hurt worse now, after she'd pulled the bullet from his shoulder and his shields had re-stabilized, than it had when he'd first been shot. But he felt too sick to ask; instead, Duncan closed his eyes again and took a few deep breaths. His leaned back against the wall and Bailey was quick to navigate the pillow underneath his head.

"I'm sorry, Duncan," she said, letting the palm of her hand rest against the base of his neck as she leaned forward to kiss his forehead.

He could read the meaning behind her words. She wasn't apologizing for the pain or that her hand might not have been steady enough for the motion of the jumpship. She was apologizing for shooting him, and that knowledge made the Hunter wonder if maybe it hadn't been an accident, after all. His shoulder still hurt, though by this time the limb was already halfway towards going numb.

Duncan was almost overcome with a terrible sense of nausea and a pressure building in the back of his head.

Looking back on it, there'd been something different about her, whether she'd made the choice to shoot him for herself or was under some effect of the Hive Wizard she'd brought down before he'd found her. Reaching out to the Warlock with closed eyes, he managed to find her hand. When he realized his hand had gone numb and he was too weak to lace his fingers with hers, he thought to panic. Something wasn't right and he was starting to realize it hadn't been the transmat.

Duncan frowned, trying to sit up, "I can' move my arm. My fingers won' move."

"Try to relax, Guardian," Bailey's Ghost, Rindel, soothed.

When he tried to sit up, Bailey pressed his back down against the cot with a gentle hand.

"Shh! Please, rest now, Duncan," she whispered, wrapping her left arm around his neck and drawing herself against him where he reclined on the cot against a wall. Her right hand trailed down his chest to come to rest over his heart before she turned her attention to a clasp which would release his chest plate. "I'm so sorry. The poison, oh, this is all my fault."

"Poison?"

But his vision was already beginning to blur around the edges. She seemed so far away, though he could feel her heart beating from where he'd wrapped his good arm around her waist, letting his palm rest open against her back.

"Please stay still," she whispered. And as she pulled away, she took the Hunter's chest plate and the cape still attached to it with her and left both pieces to rest on the ground beside the cot. He was left with a grey and black jumpsuit, torn at the shoulder where Bailey's bullet had struck him. With a faraway look in her eyes, the Warlock trailed gentle fingertips over the tattered edges of the fabric and made a soft noise in the back of her throat. Pressing her lips against the corner of his mouth, she murmured more as reassurance for herself, "The bullet wasn't there for long. I should still be able to draw the poison out."

"Of course you can," Albert reassured.

And what it was she was doing to his shoulder, Duncan didn't have a clue. Her touch was gentle but everything north of his waist on the right side of his body was numb. She might have been burning him with her solar magic for all he knew.

"How's everything back here?"

It was Amri. Duncan recognized his Exo's voice but his vision was starting to cloud to such an extent he couldn't make out much except for the blur he still thought was Bailey.

"Amri?" Duncan heard panic mixing with relief in Bailey's voice. She'd picked up his left hand, holding it in between both of hers. "Amri, I d-don't know how to help him."

"Duncan's hurt?"

By then she was crying but Duncan could feel the heavy shade crawling quick through his bloodstream, working towards his heart. He felt sure this poison would kill him; if Bailey had given up, there was no hope left.

With what strength he could manage, he tried to squeeze her hand. When he felt her press her thumb into his palm, he smiled. He knew he smiled. Albert came to rest on the pillow above his head, casting a reassuring blue light over his face.

"Hive poison," Amri muttered to himself. He felt Amri's hands over his skin and that most terrible, hated sensation of Void Magic. And then a pain unlike any he'd ever known in all his life, worse even than the burning from earlier. Like all the Light he had left within him was being drawn out. Like he was being drawn away from himself. Then, he heard Amri's voice, "Warlock, what's this all about?"

Bailey didn't answer and Duncan couldn't remember how to use his voice.

"Bailey?"

An even longer pause. Then Albert piped up, "He's going to be alright, you know. He'll just need to sleep this off."

Ignoring Albert, Amri asked of his fellow Warlock, "What happened?"

Still she didn't respond. Duncan could feel her hands, still holding his, begin to shake. He could hear she was still crying but he couldn't see anything when he tried opening his eyes. Hell, he couldn't even know for sure his eyes were open. All he saw was darkness.

"You'd better start talking, Warlock," Amri's voice cut through the silence, cold and harsh.

Duncan managed to move his left arm just a bit but the attempt at capturing the Exo's attention had been insufficient. In all honesty, he'd wanted to nudge Amri as a reminder he was still here and yelling at his girl, no matter what the circumstances, wasn't acceptable. But Bailey was already murmuring, "It was an accident. I never meant to-"

The Hunter knew something had fallen off of the edge of the cot when he heard metal clash against metal. Both Amri and Bailey fell silent.

"Is this yours?" Amri's voice accused. The sound had gotten closer, seeming to suggest the Exo had leaned over to pick up whatever had fallen.

Bailey dropped Duncan's hand and the Hunter felt empty, like he'd lost everything that mattered to him in the entire universe. Her voice was shaking when she replied, "Amri, I can explain-"

"Save it for the Vanguard," the Exo cut her off.

"Amri," she tried.

"Go fly the ship," he commanded.

Her hands found Duncan's again and the Hunter tried to hold onto her, but he was too weak. Bailey's voice was soft when she tried, again, to reach the Exo, "But what about Duncan?"

"Don't you think you've done enough?" the Exo snapped. This time his voice cracked in the middle. When Bailey gasped, Amri seemed to soften his behavior, "If you want to help him, get us back to Tower. I've done for him what I can. He needs to visit the infirmary."

"He's going to be just fine," Albert reassured. Duncan got the impression no one was listening to his Ghost when he felt Albert hover to rest on his shoulder, muttering, "Just get some rest, Guardian. You'll be good as new when you wake up."

If Bailey obeyed the Exo's orders, Duncan didn't know. Albert's voice and the sensation of Bailey's hands sliding out of his own were the last things he remembered before sleep claimed him.

It was later the same evening the Guardian was awoken to a loud banging on his bedroom door. He couldn't remember how he'd gotten there, his bedroom. The last thing he remembered was… well, he really wasn't sure. The pain in his shoulder had subsided and the weary Hunter was happy to know, at least, he could move his arm and hand again.

"You awake in there?" the question snapped him out of his reverie. When his brown eyes fell on the door, he was happy to realize his vision had returned, as well. What the hell had happened to him, anyway?

He was coherent enough to recognize it was Kellin on the other side of his door in the middle of the night, but he couldn't think of any reason he should leave the warmth of his bed to answer the Titan's call. Not a damn reason. Kellin could wait for morning. Yawning, Duncan rolled over onto his left shoulder and pulled the threadbare quilt back up and over his head. The sooner he could manage to block out the too-loud, unappreciated pounding, the sooner he could get back to his dreaming.

It was some good medicine he was beginning to remember Amri'd found him for his shoulder; would be a shame if he let it go to waste.

"Hey!" Kellin pounded on the door harder, which was impressive because Duncan had figured any harder and the Titan would have broken his wrist. "Wake up; you have a guest."

"Shh! Don't wake Amri," hissed a second voice, this one softer and much more feminine. The Hunter smiled to himself when he recognized Bailey's voice for her addition of, "Besides, Duncan keeps his door unlocked."

Kellin could have waited for morning, but Bailey? She was more than reason enough for Duncan to postpone his sleep.

When the Hunter heard the doorknob turn and his door creak open, he shot out of bed and had both feet on the ground before either Kellin or Bailey had time to cross the threshold. Rubbing open his tired brown eyes, he stood up and crossed the distance from his bed to the door, smiling, "Hi, Bailey."

"Hi Duncan," she smiled back, placing her gloved hand in the center of his bare chest. Despite the smile, Duncan could tell she was preoccupied and anxious.

"Really?" Kellin scratched his head, indicating how curious he found this new piece of information. "You've always slept with your door unlocked?"

Duncan ignored his friend, kicking the door shut to leave Kellin alone in the hall as he led Bailey inside by placing a gentle hand on the small of her back. Reaching backwards, the Hunter flicked the lock shut just in time. He smirked when he heard Kellin trying to turn the knob, eventually working his shoulder into the metal door, but unable to force it to budge, even a little.

"Wha' are you doin' awake so late, Lady Warlock?" Duncan stifled a yawn behind the back of his hand before reaching out to hold the Warlock's.

"I knew it couldn't be true!" Kellin's muffled voice rang through the door.

"Leave them alone and go to bed, mate," Amri's voice scolded Kellin. "The sooner she says her piece, the sooner we can be rid of her."

Raising an eyebrow, Duncan looked at the door as though Amri was standing in front of it. That was some odd behavior from the Exo; Amri was normally quite fond of Bailey. Before the Hunter could say a word to defend her, however, Bailey had drawn his attention back to her with a gentle hand on the side of his face.

"I needed to talk to you," Bailey replied, ignoring Duncan's roommates, as she pulled her hand away from his face. He could read in her eyes she seemed agitated by something so he softened his demeanor and straightened his shoulders.

"Wha's wrong?"

"N-nothing's wrong, Duncan," she stumbled over her words. Something about the way she'd said it made the Hunter wonder if it wasn't the opposite, if everything wasn't wrong.

When he took a step closer to her, she turned around and walked across his room to look out the window. The Traveler was in plain sight, illuminated by the very final traces of gentle moonbeams over the Last City. Gauging by the color of the sky, the Hunter decided it was probably well after midnight, perhaps just an hour or so until sunrise.

Turning his attention back to her, he tried to make out what it was that had her so, well… out of sorts, he supposed. It wasn't like her to show up at his dormitory in the middle of the night without letting him know she was coming. He'd have woken up to meet her at the door so she wouldn't have to deal with explaining herself to Kellin or Amri, she knew that.

"Somethin's wrong," Duncan whispered, placing a hand on her shoulder as he settled next to the window beside her. He was looking down at her, trying to find any indication of what it was she was feeling. Wasn't she able to sleep? Had it been another nightmare?

The Warlock drew a shaky breath, running her hand through her bangs. The Hunter had known her long enough to recognize the nervous habit for what it was. So, he let his hand fall off of her shoulder and rest against her waist, hoping his touch could comfort her.

Pressing his lips to the top of her head, he murmured, "Wha's the matter? Nigh'mare? Missed me too much to sleep?"

"I've been thinking," she whispered, clasping and unclasping her hands together where her palms rested against the windowsill.

Duncan felt his throat grow dry. This was nothing new, his girl thinking about something… it was like a hobby to her. But it was the way she held her hands… he'd never seen her do that in all the time they'd been together. The confidence with which she always carried herself was absent.

She was just anxious.

"Bailey?"

"Duncan, I can't be with you anymore."

He tried to process the words but they rolled off of him like they carried no more weight than the weather report or where his Fireteam was being deployed to next. He'd never imagined she'd say something like that… so he'd never prepared himself, at all, for what those words might make him feel. At first, he felt nothing, numb, and then the confusion, the hurt followed.

"Look, if this is abou' today, all's forgiven, Bailey," he smiled down at her. "I'm alrigh', you're alrigh'; it was jus' an acciden'."

"This is about more than today, Duncan."

He thought he could remember himself laughing. He knew he could remember himself replying, "Ya don' mean tha'. Tell me wha's really botherin' ya and we can work it ou' together."

"I'm serious, Duncan," she insisted, turning around so his arm fell away from her waist. She still wasn't looking at him and without being able to see her eyes, the Hunter was left rather helpless to discern if she was being honest with him, if she'd really meant what she was saying or not.

"Look at me, Bailey," the Hunter commanded.

Sure, his mind was racing as he tried to process all of the reasons that she could possibly want to leave him. And, sure, he wasn't at a place where he was able to process all of what she'd just said to make an informed decision about how he ought to react-what, with the way that his heart was racing and his palms had grown sweaty. As the Warlock had made to step around him and make for the doorway at his back, Duncan did the one thing in the entire universe that still felt right.

He caught her before she could leave.

With his left arm around her waist, effective in holding her in place right in front of him, the Hunter brought his right hand to the side of her face. His fingers were laced in her soft hair, his thumb traced a gentle line across her high cheekbone. Her hands fell over his chest, like she'd meant to push him away, but she let him hold her. As soon as the thought crossed his mind it might be the last time she'd ever be so close to him, he banished it like it had burned him.

Though he couldn't see the tears that fell from her deep grey eyes, he could feel the moisture against his skin and it was all the indication Duncan needed to know the tiny shred of hope he'd grasped onto, the same one that had empowered him to keep her there with him, maybe wasn't so unfounded after all.

Maybe she was just as upset about what she was trying to do as he was. Maybe this, whatever it was he was hoping to do, was exactly what she needed for him to do. He'd show her, dammit; if she wouldn't listen to him, he'd show her how much they needed one another. Hell, she was made for him; absolutely perfect in every way Duncan could even think to imagine the woman who would stand beside him would be. Whatever he'd done to upset her-well, he'd fix it. He'd do whatever she needed, whatever she wanted if she'd just stay.

"Dammi', Bailey, " Duncan muttered. "Look at me. You tell me again, righ' now, tha' you mean' it when you said you wanted to walk through tha' door. And look a' me when you say it."

She looked away in a sudden, immediate display of uncertainty that told the Hunter everything he needed to know. Her voice was soft, full of hesitation when she stammered, "Duncan, I-"

"Jus' wha' I thouh'," the Hunter sighed, crashing his lips down over hers. He kissed her like he'd never kissed her before; pulling her entire body up against his, letting his right hand comb through her hair to cradle the nape of her neck. He could feel her hands upon his shoulders in an instant; he could feel her struggling to find a way to draw her frame even closer against his. Pressing his tongue against her teeth, demanding entry to her mouth, he seized her hips to bring her legs up to his waist.

She kissed him back with equal effort; meeting his tongue with hers, wrapping her legs around his waist, letting him work the thick overcoat she'd worn off of her shoulders. Her arms were around his neck, her fingers were laced through his hair, but Duncan knew she was still crying. He could feel her shoulders shaking and the moisture of her tears transferring from her cheek to his when she moved to bury her face against his neck.

A soft sob met his ears but she clung to him like she might never let him go. Duncan froze. His voice was soft when he pressed his lips against the top of her head and whispered, "Shh, Bailey. Don' cry. I didn' mean ta make you cry."

"I'm sorry, Duncan."

He laid her down in the center of his bed, careful of the way he unwrapped her legs from around his waist. Hovering over her, the Hunter dried her tears with a gentle hand and soft kisses over her cheeks. It seemed she couldn't let him be away from her now that she had almost succeeded in walking out of his life forever.

"Today was-" she cried, cutting herself off in the middle with a sob.

Duncan worked his hand into hers.

"If Amri hadn't-" and then another round of tears.

Duncan kissed her cheek, brushing her bangs out of her face.

"Oh Duncan! I thought - I don't know what I would have done if… If-"

"Shh, Bailey. It's alrigh'," he whispered. "I'm jus' fine."

Bailey sat up from where Duncan had laid her down and crawled into his lap. Her feet hung over the edge of his bed and her arms were wrapped around his waist; she had the side of her face pressed against his chest like she was listening to his heartbeat. Her voice was a soft sound he'd needed to strain to hear, "I didn't mean it - what I said."

"I know," Duncan replied, all false confidence and bravado. He'd been terrified she really was going to leave. He hadn't known until he'd made her stay she hadn't meant what she would have him believe she'd intended. Kissing the top of her head, quite certain he'd never been happier in his life to have taken such a gamble as he had in keeping her with him, Duncan sighed.

He certainly hoped whatever line of thinking had inspired all of what had gotten into her mind that evening was done with for good.

His left hand came to rest on the small of her back and he let himself relax, a little, when he realized she had stopped crying. Tonight marked one of the few times since he'd known her Bailey had been so upset. Whether she was ready to talk about her research or not, Duncan knew it was time for his Warlock to start letting him in on some of her secrets. "Are you ready to talk abou' it?"

"No," she whispered. The way her voice cracked in the middle of the syllable almost broke Duncan's heart. Her body trembled against his and the only thing he could think to do was pull her closer to him.

"Bailey," the Hunter sighed, closing his eyes while he snuggled his cheek against the top of her head. "We'll have to talk abou' it sooner or later. This time, it isn' goin' away."

She was silent.

So Duncan tried a more direct approach, asking, "Wha' are you researchin'?"

She shook her head.

"Then le's try an easier one," he whispered. "Wha' was today all abou'?"

Again, she shook her head.

"Bailey," the young man muttered, running a frustrated hand through his hair. He could feel her flinch and was reminded to relax. Pushing her away or getting angry with her wouldn't solve anything. Softening his approach, Duncan tried to explain, "Please understand. I'm tryin' to help."

"You can't help me," she whispered. "I've done this to us. To myself. Duncan, I could have killed you today. I thought about it. My finger was on the trigger."

"Then wha' stopped you?" he challenged. His gaze was hard, he knew, but she'd almost just confessed to shooting him on purpose. Or maybe she had and he was so dumb in love with her he couldn't allow himself to see it. If it hadn't been an accident like he'd thought, things were far worse than they seemed.

Since he'd snapped at her, he'd expected her temper to flare and for her to meet him with frustration and anger of her own. But she looked up at him as though deep in thought and put her hand on his chest over his heart. Her voice was quiet but she sounded so sure of herself, almost hopeful, he simply had to believe her, "You did."

He hadn't expected such a confident response, given the emotional toll their short evening together seemed to have had already. Taken aback, Duncan felt his anger melting away. He didn't understand everything that had his Warlock troubled, but the way her entire demeanor seemed to have brightened when she'd made the confession was a step in the right direction.

Duncan closed his eyes, leaning into her caress when she placed her palm against the side of his face. Her right hand moved up his chest in a slow, deliberate trail until it stopped at his collarbone. Bailey was leaning forward, capturing his lips with hers, before Duncan thought to remember they'd been having a conversation. An important conversation…

"Bailey," he scolded, capturing her face with both of his hands. He shook his head, sighing, "Don' try to change the subjec'."

"I haven't!" she protested. And the way she looked smiling up at him; Duncan couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her so full of genuine happiness; it had been months. Her arms were around his shoulders, pulling his lips over hers as she murmured between kisses, "Don't you see, Duncan? The answer has been right in front of me this whole time!"

"Righ'," he sighed, his voice low in the back of his throat as he pulled his lips away from hers to trail a series of soft, open-mouthed kisses down her neck. When he reached the collar of her high-necked shirt, the Hunter tugged at the coarse material until the buttons had come undone, revealing the smooth skin of her shoulder. Between kisses, he thought to ask, "The answer to wha', Lady Warlock?"

He felt her left hand form a fist around a few locks of his sandy-blonde hair, pulling his lips closer to her skin. The sound her breath made when it caught in her throat caused the Hunter to grasp her hips like his possessing them was a reflex. He was laying her back against the soft sheets spread over his bed before he remembered he'd asked her a question.

Pulling away to meet her with a stern look, he couldn't stop himself from admiring the mysterious sort of beauty she made for; he was all caught up in the sultry, disheveled way she was curled into the center of his bed and he kissed her again before reminding, "The answer to wha'?"

He felt her thigh brush against his waist as she squirmed underneath him to free her arm. Combing her fingers through his bangs, Bailey smiled, "The solution to my nightmares and all the worries that lay heavy on my mind. Duncan," and here she paused to take his hand in both of hers, laying them together over her heart. Her eyes shined up at him, "It's you. You're what keeps me grounded, what brings me back."

He wasn't following her and he couldn't be sure if it was because he had forgotten the question or if the things he wanted to do to her were starting to affect his concentration. Pulling away, he looked down at her with curiosity and a hint of amusement, wondering aloud, "And wha's it tha' pulls you away?"

"It's this," she whispered. As she sat up, she moved closer to him while holding her right hand out in front of her. As her Ghost, Rindel, materialized, Bailey nodded and the Ghost summoned an ebony hand cannon. Turning it over in her hands, she bit her lower lip before handing it to Duncan. He could tell she was nervous and perhaps a bit apprehensive as she added, "This and all of the things it changes inside of me when I use it."

The outer casing was well worn; scuffed and marred from all its time of use, Duncan wondered why he'd never thought to inspect Bailey's favorite hand cannon. He'd seen her use it before, countless times. But now that he was holding it, he recognized what she had. Two green orbs were set on either side of the barrel, which glowed a powerful shade of green light in the darkness of his bedroom. The metal seemed to peel away from itself, forming sharp points in an occasional, haphazard pattern.

Thorn.

Bailey had Thorn. And from the look of it, the feeling, the very power emanating from somewhere deep within; this weapon was as powerful now as any legend had ever made it out to be.

"Does the Vanguard know you have this?"

The question had been careful. He'd made sure to keep his voice low, tone unchanged so as not to give the young woman any cause for alarm.

"No," she looked away like she was ashamed of herself. "But Amri does, after today. He wants to turn me over to Ikora. Kellin, um, Kellin convinced him to wait until I could talk to you, first."

Duncan would have to remember to thank his Titan for that. If the Vanguard knew Bailey had this gun… Traveler only knew what her punishment might be.

He wanted to ask if she knew what she had but Duncan decided it wouldn't serve to patronize her, not now that she'd finally started to open up to him. And of course she knew… With a heavy sigh, the Hunter laid the gun on his bedside table, frowning for the way one of the spires near the handle cut his finger as he did so. Bringing the cut to his mouth, he tried to stop the bleeding before asking, "How long have you had it?"

"I found it in the Hellmouth more than a year ago," she confessed, working her hand into his. Her fingers seemed to tremble where he held them and when Duncan looked into Bailey's pretty grey eyes, he could read her anxiousness, her worry to know what it was he thought. When he lowered his chin in an indication that she ought to continue, the Warlock added, "A short time before I met you. I didn't realize what it was when I first found it. I thought it was just a ruined hand cannon. Looking back on it now, I can't explain what made me keep it. The gun, it wouldn't even fire a bullet."

A thousand things he wanted to say raced through his mind like Solar magic through his limbs when he'd activate his Golden Gun. But Duncan couldn't hold onto any thought in particular. He was still just trying to wrap his mind around the realization Bailey had Thorn. Or, as a more terrifying thought threatened, Thorn had her...

There was a reason the Vanguard didn't allow Guardians to carry the gun: Thorn. It possessed a mysterious power, famous for darkening the heart of its host until there was little left of the Light that kept a Guardian alive. That gun could turn even the most pure Guardian away from the Light before they realized what was happening. Some rumors were passed back and forth in the darkest corners of the Tower's bars to say Thorn had turned her original owner into a creature of the Darkness.

Duncan shuddered.

Thinking about her, his girl, with that gun brought so much of the last several months into perspective; her nightmares and the persistent, unending nature of her research. Duncan understood why she'd been so upset today. She hadn't just shot him. She'd shot him with Thorn. And she really had been under a spell, a curse imposed by the will of a hand cannon that might eventually come to possess her if she wasn't careful.

"Bailey," he shook his head, afraid and angry, shocked and desperate all at the same time. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he pressed his lips to her temple and asked, "Why didn' you tell me?"

"I was afraid," she replied. "I knew I had to get rid of it; find some way to destroy it."

Duncan sighed, kissing her temple again and pulling her into his lap.

With a dark sort of humor inherent in her tone, Bailey thought to add, "Before it destroys me."

"Don' talk like tha', Bailey," the Hunter frowned, closing his eyes as he wrapped up tight within his arms the small frame of the woman he loved even more than those most selfish, secret parts of his own self. On a whim he summoned Albert, demanding, "My gun."

"Guardian, what do you need-"

"Al, please," Duncan frowned, taking a deep breath as he punched the bridge of his nose. His left arm remained around Bailey's waist until he seemed satisfied that his Ghost would do as he asked.

"Very well," the Ghost materialized Duncan's spare hand cannon, the only one he had left now that his Palindrome had been lost somewhere deep within the Hellmouth. This gun from Albert was Eyasluna, Duncan's first love.

"For you," Duncan nodded, handing the gun over to his girl. "Ya can' keep usin' Thorn, and this one has served me well."

Bailey took the gun from him with reluctance. She turned it over a few times before trying to hand it back to her Hunter.

"If we're gonna ge' ridda tha' thing," and Duncan motioned to the nightstand where Thorn was glowing with a menacing light, "You need yourself a reliable gun. And this one's no' so hard to ge' a feel for."

"Duncan," she whispered, pressing her lips against his. He shook his head, letting his lips find her cheeks, her temple, and her neck. She took the gun, placing it on the table beside Thorn.

His kissed her slowly, deeply. He ran his hands down her back, feeling the familiar curves of her body like the very knowledge of her physical presence might make her even more real, more permanent. Like his utter devotion might keep her safe. And if he couldn't be with her when the time would eventually come she'd need to be looked after, he trusted Eyasluna to do the job.

His voice was low but resolute, "Nothin' is gonna hur' you. No' while I'm still here to say somethin' abou' it; I promise you tha'."

She kissed him back, pressing her bare hands against his chest. The Warlock kicked off her boots before she laid the Hunter on his back and Duncan let her have control of the situation. In all honesty, he was studying her with intent; searching for the sign, any indication she was still the same woman he loved. She took his injured hand in hers and kissed the back of it, confessing, "I know, Duncan."

Her hands trailed over the lines of muscles that formed his abs; her lips weren't far behind. She'd employed the help of her Solar magic to scare his chills away. And to say the Hunter wasn't convinced this woman was the same one he held in the darkest hours of the night when her nightmares would keep her up would have been a lie.

Hers was a touch that was unmistakable; the way she could wrap his every care in the entire world up and in line with her own. She could make time stand still until it was only the two of them, together, that mattered. The way her eyes burned for his touch, his hands on her body - Duncan could read her desires like she'd spoken them. But this woman, his girl, had a way of making her desires known without words.

"Bailey," he muttered, working his hand under the hem of her collared shirt. Guiding her lips back to his with his other hand, he smirked, "Wha' am I gonna do with you?"

She gasped, finding her body pinned beneath Duncan's. He'd distracted her attention with a few light kisses placed behind her ear and when he knew she'd lost her focus, the Hunter had turned her over onto her back. She laughed and met him with a smile so radiant the young man hadn't expected it. Her hands worked through his shaggy blonde hair as she started her bargaining, "I think I should be cuddled."

"Do ya, now?" Duncan wondered, hiding a smile and trying to appear serious. He was slow and careful about the time he took to work the remaining buttons of her shirt apart. He left soft kisses across the skin his actions left exposed and felt his heart hammering in his chest for the way his girl tried to press her body closer to his.

She sighed, "Yes."

Working her shirt down her back, Duncan let her keep the garment hooked on her arms but pulled it aside to reveal her shoulders. Trailing his teeth across the small scars and marks all the perils of her adventures hair painted her with through the years, the Hunter ran his left hand up the side of her neck and cradled her head. When he knew she was looking at him, he closed his eyes to confess, "I'll think abou' it. The cuddling. I've got somethin' else in mind firs'."

Bailey made a low noise of agreement in the back of her throat, nodding as Duncan kissed her neck, as his hands trailed over the muscles of her abdomen, her arms, and her thighs. She wrapped her legs around his waist, which caused the Hunter to pull away, abrupt and sudden.

He smirked for the look she gave him. Confusion and a mix of impatience; but he was apologetic as he made to unfasten the closings on her trousers. She helped him work her pants over the curve of her hips and down the toned expanse of her legs, leaving her in just her underwear and collared shirt. Before he could pull her close again, Duncan laughed at the intensity with which she'd turned her attention to his waistband.

"Wha's the hurry for, Lady Warlock?" he teased, catching her hands and bringing them to his chest. "We've go' plenty of time before sunrise."

She'd ignored the question, letting her fingers trail across his chest and down his abs, heading straight for his waistband. Pressing his lips to her temple, wrapping his arms around her shoulders until he was able to pull her against his chest, the Hunter laughed again. But he let her pull his sweatpants down his waist.

"Layers?" she sighed, revealing she was more than exasperated he would have had boxers on under his pants. And the look in her eyes when she climbed out of his lap, dropping one leg on either side of his hips… Duncan wrapped his arms around her waist, letting his fingers toy with the waistband of her panties, teasing her.

He pressed his cheek against her chest and caught the satin material of her bra between her teeth. When she growled in the back of her throat, stifling a moan, Duncan muttered, "I was cold."

"It's the middle of summer," she whined, throwing her head backward, pulling his lips closer to her chest and tugging on the locks of his hair she had clasped in her fist. "What are you sleeping in sweats for?"

"Migh' need to ask Kellin," he muttered in between kisses. "I think he's the one who pu' me to bed."

"I don't want to talk about Kellin," she groaned, biting his ear.

With his left hand, Duncan found the clasp of her bra and made to release it. The garment was caught on her arms for the way she was still half in and half out of her shirt but he reached underneath the red satin, nonetheless. Finding her nipple, he gave it a teasing squeeze, which pulled another growl from her throat, before whispering against her ear, "If we're on the topic of layers, speak for yourself."

He wanted to believe she knew she'd lost the argument and had conceded his point when she crushed her lips over his. The way it felt to have her winding her fingers up in his hair caused the Hunter to close his eyes. He bent his knee, letting it press against her taut rear, to compromise her balance. And when he caught her against his chest, his left hand had found a way underneath the waistband of her panties. Duncan squeezed her butt, laughing at her reaction.

She'd wrinkled her nose like she was afraid he wouldn't catch her. When she realized he had, her cheeks burned red; whether she was angry or newly modest, Duncan didn't know, and he leaned forward like he meant to kiss her before, at the last possible moment, stopping to ask, "Do ya still wanna cuddle?"

"You!" her eyes narrowed and she pressed his shoulders into the bed with what he supposed was most of her strength. Pointing an accusing finger down at him, she shifted her hips over the top of his and Duncan saw sparks out of his peripherals for the feeling. He gripped her waist and she gripped his bangs harder, forcing him to tilt his head back. With her teeth against his neck, she scolded, "Don't be such a tease! I want you inside me. Right now."

The way she looked leaning over him with what little of her clothing remained disheveled and barely covering her full breasts; Duncan blinked, running his hands up her back before tugging at the shirt she had hooked around her arms. He smirked as he agreed, "Yeah. Le' me up."

He watched the way her eyes softened as she seemed to take sympathy on the poor Hunter pinned beneath her. Thinking he'd have his way, or at least her shirt, Duncan slid his right hand around her waist, up her side, and cupped her breast. The softness in her eyes was gone in an instant, replaced with what he knew was defiance. She wanted to be in control.

The Hunter laughed. Duncan loved catching her in between emotions; the split second of transition from one to the other, he knew he'd never get tired of being able to draw such varied emotions from her.

He smacked her ass with a sharp flick of his wrist and, gasping, Bailey fell forward, catching herself before she landed on top of him. One hand was on either side of his head but Duncan wasted no time before capturing one of her nipples between his teeth. He'd pushed her bra away and wrapped his right arm around her waist. As her body fell against his, she moaned and he turned her over so she was underneath him.

He listened to her breathing as she hurried out of her shirt, he felt whole as she wrapped each of her arms around his back and shoulders. The soft, low sounds she was making in response to his careful attention intensified when Duncan pulled her bra away. He replaced his lips with his thumb, letting his mouth work further south as he licked and nipped his way down her smooth abdomen.

Her body squirmed underneath his until he allowed her to free her arms but she just tangled her fingers in his hair and sighed like she had accepted her fate. Bailey's foot brushed down Duncan's calf. She'd arched her back up off his bed and struggled to be closer to him.

Smirking, Duncan reasoned she'd forgotten her desire from a moment ago to be in control, to rush him. But he was more than content to have his way with her. Pressing his lips against her navel, working his way over the top of her waistband, the Hunter couldn't pull his eyes away from her when she turned her head to the side and cooed his name into the soft folds of the quilt she was lying on top of.

"I'll tell you wha', Lady Warlock," the Hunter whispered, stroking between her smooth folds, which were already beginning to moisten under his careful touch. He felt her tense, heard a soft sigh escape her lips. Pulling the red panties away from her hips, Duncan kissed the smooth skin between her thighs as he made to pull the garment off of her entirely. His voice was low in the back of his throat, "If you promise to be patien', I can promise we'll cuddle when I'm done with you."

Reaching out for him, her hands settled over his biceps, and she asked, "What did you have in mind that I ought to be patient for?"

Guiding one of his fingers inside her, working it backward and forward in a slow but deliberate rhythm, he relished the sound of her surprise and swore to himself he would do anything to keep her near him always. The way it felt to have this goddess of a woman, his whole heart, arch her back to meet his touch; the way she sighed, bending her knees as she raked her nails over the smooth skin of his shoulders.

Running his left hand down the soft skin of her inner thigh and letting his right thumb find the delicate place above her opening that would heighten her enjoyment, Duncan assured, "You're a smar' girl. I think you can figure it ou'."

"Duncan!" she cried out his name. Quick to stifle the sound, she brought her right hand to her mouth and bit her knuckle, unable to keep her back from arching again.

"Don' do tha', Lady Warlock," Duncan soothed, reaching up to take her right hand it his left, holding it with a reassuring gleam in his eye. He kissed her hip bone, "I love it when you talk to me."

Squeezing his hand, she moved her hips against his touch with impatience, urging him to continue. Making a frustrated noise in the back of her throat, she confessed, "Kellin's finally asleep. It wouldn't serve to wake him up."

"Don' you worry yourself abou', Kellin!" Duncan laughed, pressing a second finger into her. She moaned, pulling her hand away from his to run her fingers through her own hair. The Hunter watched the way her body writhed in pleasure.

"Duncan," she muttered, finding a corner of the quilt to bring to her mouth. She bit the material and growled in the back of her throat when he thought to run his thumb over the sensitive place above her opening.

He sounded almost cocky, he knew, when he paused to ask, "I take it I did tha' righ'? No' worried anymore abou' wakin' up my Fireteam?"

Grunting in frustration, Bailey swatted a helpless hand at Duncan's face and moved her hips against his hand. Laughing as he dodged her half-hearted strike, the Hunter gave in to the Warlock and began to run his fingers back and forth inside of her. He watched the way she responded.

He knew she was close when her back straightened and her hands started to grasp in desperation at the fabric of his quilt and for the tangled locks of his hair. Her entire body stopped moving, but Duncan knew he wasn't supposed to. The Hunter kept his motion steady, following the same gentle rhythm that had gotten her this far.

"Duncan, I-" and her breath caught in the back of her throat. She had her eyes closed but she was reaching for his left hand, which was resting against her well-toned abdomen. Her body trembled such a soft, gentle motion that Duncan would have sworn she'd shocked him with Arc magic for the spark of adoration that shot through him. Her voice was a breathless sigh, "Oh, Duncan."

Two more gentle strokes brought another sigh pouring from her lips and with her cry, a rush of warmth that coated the Hunter's fingers. With reluctance, he pulled his hand away from her and watched her gather her senses.

She was calm for a long moment before grey eyes widened in surprise. As she stared up at him, Bailey started to apologize, "Your quilt! Duncan, I'm so sorry."

As she tried to sit up, Duncan shook his head and pressed her with a gentle hand back into the tangle of fabric where she was lying. No feeling he'd ever had in all his life quite compared to the immense feeling of satisfaction he derived every time they'd share this exchange. Reaching up to hold her hand, he replied with a mischievous edge, "I wasn' quite finished with you."

Bailey smiled at him, wrapping her arms around the Hunter's neck to pull him closer. He let his knees fall into the space between her legs she'd left for him. He let her kiss him, relishing the way her hands seemed to burn his skin in all the places they left. Maybe she was using her Solar magic, or maybe he wanted her that much; Duncan's hands brushed light circles against Bailey's hips before he crushed his lips over hers.

She worked the boxer shorts off of his waist, and he helped her with them the rest of the way. When her hand wrapped around his hardened member, the Hunter saw stars. Her thumb was applying precisely the right amount of pressure to tease him, and since she'd succeeded in taking his mind off of anything but her, Bailey used her leg as leverage and rolled the Hunter over onto his back.

Her voice was a low whisper when she confessed, "I want to be on top."

Duncan nodded, quite sure he couldn't have pulled his brown eyes away from her if his life depended on it. If she was going to be on top, there was nothing he wanted to say to change her mind. Not a damn word.

With one leg on either side of his waist, Duncan watched her hand, wrapped around his cock, guiding him to her opening. He tried to reach out to her, to grab her waist, but she'd moved faster than him. The Hunter could hardly breathe for the immense pleasure of this new angle.

She'd been on top so many times before but this… And maybe it felt so intense for all the time he'd waited, wanting to be inside her, or perhaps it was that he felt closer to her now that she'd begun to confess her secrets, but the way it felt to be buried in her warmth. The way her hands felt, splayed out over his chest as she steadied herself.

Duncan was gentle in how he slid his hands around her waist to rest over her ass. Watching the way her grey eyes gleamed with a determined fire down at him, Duncan bit his lower lip to keep from crying out when she tested a sharp movement of her hips against his.

The Hunter tried to hold her still. He still needed a minute… His head was spinning as the sensation of her walls closing around him pulled him in even deeper. This-she… He couldn't even think straight.

Their eyes met, and Duncan shook his head, "Bailey, give a guy a minute, yeah?"

"I don't have a minute, Duncan," she pouted, moving her hips again. And when she did, he lost it.

Absolutely. Fucking. Lost it.

Letting his left hand grip her waist as he helped guide her hips in a gentle rhythm over his, he couldn't tear his eyes away from her. Between the way her breasts bounced with each of her urgent thrusts and the way her nails felt digging into his shoulders, it was all Duncan could do to remember to breathe.

He'd never heard her make those noises before and, without thinking what it might do to her, he dropped his thumb down between her legs. Rubbing her gently in time with the pace she was setting for them, he held her with his left arm wrapped around her shoulders when she leaned forward over his chest. His lips were against her shoulder, teeth nipping at the soft skin there, before he turned his attention towards her neck. He muttered, "Bailey," against her temple but nothing he did seemed to distract or dissuade the Warlock from what she'd set out to do.

"Duncan, I know, I just-" and then her entire body trembled. "Just let me… And then you-"

But her hips were still moving over his in rhythm. The soft panting of her breath and the occasional grunt at the back of her throat almost distracted the Hunter from the truth behind her words. When her meaning finally sunk in for Duncan, he smirked with a shameless sense of pride. The knowledge she was so desperate about the way she was using his cock for her orgasm almost made up for the teasing her hips were delivering.

Almost.

Pressing his lips against her ear, the Hunter teased, "Oh, I'll help ya along alrig', Lady Warlock."

He leaned forward to capture one of her nipples between his lips. He ran his tongue over the raised peak before her hands were laced in his hair. She pulled his head closer, and he took her cue, running his tongue over her skin again.

"Duncan!"

But he didn't falter. Duncan only pushed her further, pressing his thumb over her clit as he closed his teeth around her nipple. She trembled in his arms as her entire body tensed and, just as quickly, she relaxed. Bailey's nails raked through his hair, straight to his skull and Duncan shuddered.

He pressed his thumb down over her clitoris again. And this time she exploded around him.

The slick walls that were already tight around his shaft clamped down hard, torn between forcing him out and locking him in. Her nails dug into his scalp and Duncan looked up in time to see her head thrown back in a silent scream. He gave her no time to recover. As soon as the first wave passed, he turned them over so Bailey's back was pressed into the covers of his bed. He planted his knees on the sheets between her legs as he pounded into her.

She gripped his biceps hard, seeming to be unable to hold back the delicious moans that escaped her pink lips. As her back arched right up off the bed, he heard the banging on the wall from the room next to his.

"Some of us are trying to sleep!" Kellin's muffled voice scolded.

Just a little more, Duncan knew. His hips shot forward, slamming himself completely into her one more time before he came. She cried out his name like it was her mantra-Duncan, Duncan, Duncan. His entire body froze for a moment as he released into her. And as her remnant pulses pulled him closer, the Hunter closed his eyes and buried his face in her neck to whisper, "Hi, Bailey."

"I'm serious," Kellin pounded on the wall again.

And then Amri's voice, softer and further away, scolded, "Show some respect, mate. You keep him up at all hours of the night with your antics."

"Hi Duncan," she smiled up at him, biting his lower lip before pulling him closer, so his lips were over hers. Her arms were curled around his back, tracing lines that sent chills racing across his sensitive skin.

Letting his lips brush against her shoulder, the Hunter reached up for a pillow on which they could both rest their heads. He was panting soft and steady, feeling her heart beating in rapid pace with his own. Rubbing his nose against hers, the pair of Guardians laughed for the muffled bickering being shared between Kellin and Amri, most presumably in the shared living space of his Fireteam's flat.

Duncan wrapped his arms around Bailey, holding her close to his heart. He turned his body and hers, so he was on his side. She pulled the covers up and over their heads, snuggling closer to him as she teased, "I told you we would wake Kellin."

"I don' wanna talk abou' Kellin!"

"What do you want to talk about?" she asked, pressing her lips to his jawbone.

The Hunter closed his eyes, smiling for the feeling of her tender kisses trailing down his throat - the warmth from her lips contrasting with the chills it sent racing down his spine. He moved closer, squeezing her tight against his chest before whispering against her temple, "Why don' we talk abou' how much I love you?"

"Duncan," she had tried to sound irritated, but the Hunter could feel her lips move to form a smile against his neck. Then she ran her nails through his hair and whispered like it was her dearest secret, "I love you, too."

Taking her hand in his and holding it against his chest, over his heart, he pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, almost holding his breath, "Then marry me."

Duncan felt her hand, which had been tracing circles along his scalp, come to an immediate stop. If either one of them was still breathing, he wouldn't have known. His eyes were still closed and he was trying to steady the rapid pace his heart was beating, waiting to hear her answer.

He'd asked her on an impulse. But now that the words had been spoken, he was sure he'd never wanted anything more in all his life than to hear her say yes.

When she remained silent, he opened his eyes to see hers were full of tears. She was silent, so quiet, but he couldn't help but smile at her despite everything else he felt that might indicate he ought to still feel nervous. And when he smiled, so did she. Her laughter was like music as she brought her hand to cover her mouth, unable, it seemed, to decide whether to laugh or cry. There were so many different emotions on her face until she curled forward into his chest.

And then she decided to cry.

"Bailey?" he shook his head, pulling her close to kiss her forehead. It had been a selfish question, he knew, in the context of everything else they'd had happened to them that day. But she'd tried to leave and-damn it-wasn't he allowed to be scared, too? Couldn't he ask for something he wanted? Drawing a deep breath, he whispered, "I'm sorry if tonigh'-I mean, you don' have to answer righ' now. I can ask again. It won' be a surprise bu'-"

"Yes," she cried harder, shaking her head against his chest as though she didn't quite believe him. "Yes, of course."

Looking down at her, Duncan worried, "A-ask again? Or-"

"Yes, I'll marry you!" smiled, laughing and crying at the same time. "No matter how many more times you ask, I'll still say yes."

Duncan laughed, so very happy that he might have been flying or falling. But Bailey was still in his arms, and as long as she was near, he didn't care which it was. He shook his head, confessing, "I'm no' much good at these things. Bu', uh- jus' a second."

He reached over her, out from underneath the quilt still covering their heads, and held his palm up towards the ceiling. Without words, his Ghost understood his intention and materialized a silver band into his open palm.

Holding the ring up to her in a silent offering, he managed a nervous laugh as he explained, "I had a differen' plan for how this was gonna go. Bu' I decided to improvise."

"I'm glad you did," she whispered. Shaking her head, Bailey laughed and pulled Duncan's lips against her own. He smiled when he felt her take the ring out of his hand.

As she pulled away and the covers fell to the side, he grabbed her hand, admiring the way the simple band fit around her finger; like it was meant to be there, like it should have been all along. His eyes met hers as she sat up in bed beside him. Giving her hand a gentle tug, he asked, "Where do ya think you're goin'?"

A mischievous glimmer flashed through her steel grey eyes as she bit back a smile. Both of her hands were splayed out against his chest, and she moved so one leg was on either side of his waist. With her lips against his ear, she confessed, "Back on top."

But Duncan couldn't say anything when she teased her hips over his… He had already dropped his hands to her waist, anxious to find out just what she had in mind now.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Going back through this story with a fine-toothed comb has made me wonder if I should have kept writing. I think there would have been plenty more to tell if I think about it. What do you think? Worth it?

"Forgive me."

He thought he felt a flutter of lips pressed soft and chaste against his own. Maybe the sweep of eyelashes against his cheek or it might have been a tear, but Duncan was too tired to force open his eyes. The only thing he could find to concentrate on was the back of his eyelids and the heavy weight of sleep holding him against the firm comfort of his mattress. He turned his face into the soft feathers of his pillow and yawned.

"I love you always, Duncan; no matter what is yet to come. You're everything that's beautiful in my universe and the other half of my heart."

When the Hunter did deem it necessary to open his eyes, the space in the bed beside him was empty. Closing his brown eyes to bright sunlight shining through the double paned windows along the back of his room, the Hunter yawned and ran his right hand over the expanse of space where he'd expected to find her, muttering in sarcasm, "Mornin' Bailey."

It was late afternoon; she'd probably been up for hours by now. Duncan told himself he wouldn't hold it against her. But if there were one thing he wanted for her to learn it would be a healthy appreciation for sleeping in on the days the Vanguard gave her for rest.

Stretching for a moment before making himself sit up, Duncan threw his feet over the edge of the bed and ran a hand through his tangled bangs. A quick glance at his nightstand revealed Bailey had done what he'd asked and taken Eyasluna with her when she'd gone. He tried to pretend he didn't realize she'd taken the other gun, as well.

He thought, vaguely, he'd need to remember to ask Kellin to borrow one of his old hand cannons until he could retrieve his Palindrome. It wasn't a given someone else would have wandered so far beneath the moon's surface to have found it yet. Maybe… If the gun was gone, he supposed he could head out to the Cosmodrome that afternoon to work towards scraping together the marks for purchasing another, but he wasn't resigned to such an inevitability.

Sliding a pair of dark sweats over his hips and pulling an old white t-shirt over his shoulders, the Hunter wandered over to the sink in the far corner of the room. His reflection in the mirror gleamed back at him, and the young man looked away just as soon as he could to splash some cold water on his face. He'd had dark circles beneath his eyes, and his hair was dirty, matted down against his skull from where he'd laid his head against the pillow.

Smirking for the knowledge it was standing so far on end because Bailey had her hands tangled up in it for half the night, the Hunter took a moment to run some water through his sandy blond locks to help tame it down. Slathering toothpaste on his toothbrush, Duncan brushed his teeth before running a hand, again, through his still tangled but now less unruly hair.

He'd shower later; he decided when his stomach growled in anger. Realizing he had probably been put to bed without dinner the night before, Duncan sighed and wandered out into the living space he shared with Kellin and Amri. It was a dormitory intended for six but, as they were a Fireteam of three, the bedrooms furthest down the hallway was left unused.

Kellin was lounging on a couch with his arm wrapped lazily around Reyka's shoulders. Her head was tucked underneath his chin, and she seemed to be dozing against his chest. Amri was sitting at a desk pushed against the wall opposite Kellin. Ash, a Hunter the Exo had rescued from the wilds a few months prior, was leaning against the edge of the desk, watching the Warlock work. She had a book open in her hands like she might have been cross-referencing something for the Exo.

When Duncan walked in, Kellin whistled low and deep, shaking his head, "You look like hell. What'd the Warlock do to you?"

The question hung heavy in the open air as everyone seemed to contemplate the hidden, unintended meaning of the Titan's words. As Amri looked up from his desk, the pen in his hand hovered above his notes. Ash was worrying her lower lip; she seemed frozen and uncertain what it might take to settle the tension. Even Reyka, who Duncan had considered to be asleep, lifted her head off of the Titan's chest to get a better look at the Hunter.

Scratching his chest in the place above his heart, Duncan smirked, "Kep' me up all nigh', if tha's wha' yer askin'."

Kellin laughed, "You and me both."

Reyka rolled her eyes, smacking Kellin on the back of the head in defense of her Fireteammate and dear friend. She muttered, "Why would you even say something like that?"

Ash exhaled a sharp breath, blushing a furious shade of red despite the darkened chai color of her skin. She let her amber eyes fall back down to the book open in her hand and pretended to be reading it.

Only Amri seemed unamused by the joke, scolding, "What happened yesterday is no laughing matter, mate. Whether we are speaking of it directly or not."

"Oh, lay off her, Warlock," Kellin said. He'd wrapped his arm back around Reyka's shoulders, though, and Duncan could tell his heart wasn't really into extending his argument with the Exo. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "Or did you forget about how you and Bailey already made up this morning?"

"Is that why Bailey was so upset?" Reyka asked of no one in particular. When no one replied, she shook her head and pointed an angry finger at the Warlock, "Amri, you know better than to lecture Bailey!"

"So, I'm the one at fault?" Amri replied, exasperation evident in his tone.

Duncan crossed the room to one of the cupboards he expected to be empty but had decided to search anyway, if for nothing more than to find something to do with his hands. "Alrigh'. Knock it off, everyone. It was an acciden'. I scared 'er, rushin' around the corner like I did."

"Accident or not, nothing explains her possession of that gun," Amri reminded. And if the Exo could scowl, Traveler knew Reyka and Kellin were getting the worst of one now.

Closing the cupboard door, Duncan looked down at the ground before casting a nervous glance at the couch and letting his gaze wander over towards Ash. His voice was quiet when he wondered aloud, "If we're gonna have this conversation, shouldn' we talk abou' it somewhere more private?"

"Kellin already knows," Amri dismissed. "After what happened to you, how else do you think she ended up in your room? Last night, if I'd had it my way, she would have been turned over to the Vanguard immediately."

The room was silent as the Hunter bit his tongue, seething. The young man turned to look over at Kellin. Duncan was not going to let himself lose his temper with Amri; that was a certain sort of spectacle which did not happened all too often. He understood the Exo was feeling defensive and his actual irritation was directed at Kellin, not Bailey. Besides, when there were disagreements among the three them, normally they were between a Titan and a Warlock. The Hunter would be left in the middle to mediate.

With a single look of encouragement from the Titan, Duncan felt his expression soften. Taking a few deep breaths as he clenched and unclenched his hands to fists at his side, Duncan sighed and tried to lighten the mood, "Thanks for tha' Titan, keepin' Amri from turnin' 'er in. I can' imagine las' nigh' woulda been as much fun af'er she'd gotten a lecture from Ikora."

"Oh, of course!" Kellin smirked. "But the rest of us migh'ta gotten some better sleep."

"Kellin!" Amri and Reyka snapped at the exact same moment.

It was the Exo, however, who continued, "I'm not going to let you make light of the situation; not this time. You saw Duncan with your own eyes! He was half dead when we brought him back."

Reyka stood up from the couch, reaching her hand out for Ash but keeping silent. The younger Hunter followed after her mentor, letting the Awoken Nightstalker lead her back to Kellin's room. Duncan remained silent, watching them go. He almost wished Reyka would have stayed. Their Titan could always keep his temper better when she was near. And if Kellin couldn't find something to be worked up about, neither could the Hunter.

"Oh, it wasn't that bad, Amri," Kellin continued after he'd heard the door click shut behind his girlfriend and her charge. "Duncan was puttin' on for Bailey's sympathy, just the same as he always does."

"You can't honestly believe that," Amri growled, shaking his head in exasperation. He'd raised his voice. Duncan closed his eyes when he noticed the way that the Warlock had clenched his hand to a fist.

He was too hungry to deal with the role of mediator between the Titan and the Warlock. Couldn't they wait until after breakfast? Or, he supposed, lunch.

"C'mon, Amri. She's Duncan's girl and that practically makes her one of us," Kellin tried to explain. Sighing, the crimson-haired Awoken stood up from the couch to stand beside the Hunter and place a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "You can't just condemn her because you don't like her gun."

"What makes you think this argument has anything to do with her?" Amri had turned to face them both. His voice was an eerie sort of calm, considering the argument Duncan had been bracing himself for. "The only point I'm trying to make is that you ought not to joke about something so serious. She's going to have to get rid of that gun or it could absolutely destroy her."

Both men were silent.

"What do you have to say, Hunter?"

Glancing up at Kellin who was still staring at Amri, Duncan sighed, "I know all of tha'. Bu' I made her a promise tha' I'd look after her. She's mixed up in somethin' I didn' expec', sure, bu' I can' turn my back on her. No' now."

Duncan watched Amri's reaction as he agreed. Then he turned to Kellin to find a similar response. The Fireteam seemed to react to the word 'promise' and the Hunter was reminded in an instant of what the word meant to all of them. They shared an unspoken promise to look after one another. The three were a family in whatever mixed up sort of way it was possible to be such a thing upon the doorstep of the end of humanity.

The Hunter softened his tone, confessing, "I know she can' keep tha' gun. Bu' she's gonna need help gettin' rid of it. We can' ask her to do tha' on her own. She needs me. Us. All of us to help her."

Amri seemed uncomfortable. He appeared to be considering an appropriate response before Kellin interrupted, "Well, she'll have us, at least. The Hunter and me. I won't walk away if Duncan believes there's still somethin' that can be done."

Surprised by the Titan's rather selfless declaration, Duncan turned and glanced up at his friend. He didn't know what to say, so he offered Kellin a knowing smirk, nodding his head before deciding honesty was his best response. Crossing his arms over his chest, the Hunter replied, "It's likewise, you know. Nex' time Reyka needs to bail you outta trouble, Bailey and I'll owe ya."

Kellin scratched the back of his head like he was nervous or maybe a little bit like he wanted to confess something as well. It almost made Duncan wonder what had really gone on while he'd been sleeping. But when the Titan's amber eyes looked across the expanse of counter space separating the two men from the Warlock, the Hunter let his gaze follow. Duncan's eyes met Amri's but the two remained silent.

With a heavy sigh, Amri looked away to cross his arms over his chest. He mumbled what was almost inaudible, "I've made a few promises of my own that will need to be honored. But I didn't bring you lot back to the Tower to abandon your hopeless selves for the wrath of the inner intricacies of Hive sorcery."

"What'd he just say, Hunter?"

Duncan was smiling. He couldn't contain the happiness and relief he felt to know his Fireteam was behind him and that wonderful, fiery little Warlock he felt so lucky to call his girl, and someday soon he'd make his wife. If there was a way to break the hold that gun had on Bailey, Duncan was sure they could find it. And if there wasn't a way, he would make one.

He swore he would make one.

"He's gonna help," Duncan said, smiling at Kellin.

"He might have figured it out without your help, mate," Amri met the two other members of his Fireteam with bright eyes. "Although, Traveler help us if Kellin ever figures out how to understand us. So much of the happiness I derive from finding new ways confusing him would be forever lost."

Duncan let the words wash over him, already thinking of Bailey and what this next step in their adventure might be like. Now that he knew her secret, there were glimmers and flashes of the dark Guardian that came to his mind with immediacy and urgency; like the way her eyes would glow with an eerie edge of, well, something after she'd been through the Crucible. Or the way her voice had sounded the day before, high pitched and menacing and not at all her own.

But there were other moments; memories neither the Titan nor the Warlock could understand. The way she curled her fingers around the collar of his shirt when she would fall asleep. The way she was always trying to keep her hand in his. The way her eyes lit up every time she told him she loved him, like she was surprised by herself. Surprised by them, a Hunter and a Warlock finding something more to exist for than pressing back the Darkness.

Ignoring Amri's rather obvious jab at him like it was of no more importance than whether or not he was joining the Titan for an afternoon in the Crucible, Kellin laughed, "Aww! Everyone's made up and the band's gettin' back together! Wouldn't be as much fun if we didn't bring you, Amri, for your Firebolt grenades. Best thing about havin' a Warlock, them Firebolt grenades."

Duncan sighed, watching Amri wander around the counter to stand nearer to the Hunter and Titan who were his best friends and also his greatest sources of worry. His voice was lighter now when he thought to add, "I'm useful for more than just grenades."

The Hunter listened to the door down the hallway open and heard two sets of footsteps padding soft but sure back towards the shared living space. Reyka cleared her throat, catching the Titan's attention. Her arm was linked with Ash's and together, the pair of them made for a rather impressive spectacle. Both Hunters were two of the tallest women Duncan knew. He wasn't short, unless you asked Kellin, which no one would ever do, but Ash was as tall as he was and Reyka was just a few inches shorter than her.

Reyka's voice was low, an indication she was pretending to be unimpressed, when she asked, "Has everyone made up in here?"

"No one was fightin', babe," Kellin shook his head. "We were just takin' a vote about who's the best sniper!"

"Oh, that's Reyka," Ash smiled in a matter of fact manner.

"Reyka couldn't hit the broadside of a Kestrel if my life depended on it," Kellin replied. "I would know; haven't trusted her to watch my six fer the last three Iron Banner tournaments."

Duncan watched the way Reyka's bright blue eyes narrowed for a split second, like she was considering whether or not to murder her boyfriend, before she protested, "If you hadn't been standing so close to the Warlock I was shooting at, you wouldn't have taken any residual damage from the explosive rounds!"

"Easy, children," Amri shook his head. "Votes were cast and we've agreed I'm the best sniper."

Raising an eyebrow at Amri, perhaps the best Guardian he'd ever known to hold a sidearm, Duncan smirked. Ash had cocked her head to the side, inspecting the Exo like she'd just learned something new about him. But Reyka wasn't interested anymore, it seemed, in discussing the obscurities she was smart enough to know hadn't actually been the topic of conversation. Her voice was impatient when she asked, "What was all of this really about? We aren't still mad at Bailey, are we?"

"Nah," Duncan shook his head. He looked at Kellin for a brief moment before letting his gaze settle on Amri, "I mean, Kellin migh' be a little sore he didn' ge' his beauty sleep. But no one's mad at Bailey."

"Duncan," Reyka rolled her eyes at the other Hunter and shook her head like she was disappointed in him. She looked up at Kellin before her features softened and she asked in an innocent tone, "Titan, have you asked him?"

"Well, no. Not yet."

"Why not?" the Hunter almost pouted or, at least, she'd gotten about as close to pouting as her angular features would allow. Crossing her arms over her chest, she rolled her eyes, "Kellin, how you manage to function on your own, I'll never understand."

"There were far more important things to discuss than askin' Duncan to be Ash's mentor," Kellin narrowed his eyes, pretending to be irritated with the Awoken Hunter still pouting up at him.

"Wha'?" Duncan couldn't help but be surprised by the request.

Misunderstanding the Hunter's question, Kellin said, "Things like who's the better sniper."

"Ash needs you to be her mentor," Reyka interrupted the Titan. Pushing the girl forward so she was standing in front of Duncan, Reyka stepped closer to Kellin but Duncan wasn't paying them any attention.

Instead, he was inspecting Ash. As the tall young woman stumbled forward, she righted herself before she could topple into him. Her amber eyes were wide with embarrassment and the Hunter thought he could make out a faint hue of red spread across her high cheekbones, but it was always hard to tell when she was blushing for the rich color of her skin. A few wisps of her dark hair had fallen out of her braid to obscure her face. As they stared at one another, she seemed unable to decide what to do with her hands so she settled for loose fists at her sides.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Duncan raised an eyebrow and looked around her to ask of Reyka, "Aren' you already doin' tha'?"

The room was silent as Reyka turned to glance up and over her shoulder at Kellin, accusing, "You really haven't told him? Not anything?"

"He's been asleep," and the Awoken lowered his voice to mutter, "or otherwise indisposed," before returning to his normal tone and volume to finish, "for the past day."

"And before tha' I was on the moon," Duncan added.

"Yeah," Kellin reiterated. "And before that he was on the moon!"

"Well, now's your last chance," Reyka smirked.

Admittedly quite curious of what Kellin might have to tell him, Duncan was more unsettled by the silence engulfing the room. Weighing his options, he decided to try to lighten the mood, "Yeah, now's your las' chance. You wai' any longer and I'll leave for the cafeteria. There's nothin' to ea' in these damn cupboards and I'm starvin'."

"Well, ya see," Kellin paused as he began scratching the back of his head. Casting a nervous glance down at Reyka, he sighed and pointed an accusatory finger at his girlfriend, "It's all her fault!"

"Oh, fuck you!" Reyka spat, her pale blue eyes alight with the fiery manifestation of her momentary ire. "This is your fault, too! How dare you try to throw me to the wolves!"

Ash squeaked when Reyka dove at the Titan and started pounding her fists against his chest. She, the younger Hunter, brushed past Duncan, headed for the side of the counter nearest Amri, to put both a Warlock and another Hunter between herself and the bickering Awoken couple.

Amri tried to capture Reyka's attention in his most soothing voice, "Calm down, dear."

Watching Kellin find her wrists to keep her from pounding them against his chest, Duncan felt his jaw drop when he heard the Titan's next words. He could only watch the smug smile settle on his best friend's face when he leaned down to tease his girlfriend, "Getting this worked up isn't good for the baby, Reyka darling."

Reyka turned purple, stammering, "Y-you! Don't call me that!"

Duncan put a hand on the counter to steady himself when the first words out of her mouth hadn't been to contradict what Kellin had just said about a baby. He ran a hand through his messy blonde hair, annunciating each syllable and sound, "Wait, what?"

And, without missing a beat, Ash patted his shoulder with enthusiasm, "Oh, Duncan! Your accent, you almost sounded like a real Guardian."

Kellin let Reyka's hands go, pointing at Ash as he proclaimed in a proud voice, "Atta girl! That's right; he did sound like a real Guardian!"

Duncan shook his head, looking at Reyka like this was some sort of a joke and a stern enough look from him could get her to confess to his Fireteam's prank. When she straightened her back and smoothed Kellin's sweater, which was several sizes too large for her, over her hips, Duncan took a step closer to Amri and Ash. He looked at the Awoken Hunter again before his eyes wandered south to settle on her stomach like there would be some affirmation for him there.

When Reyka seemed to notice what he had done, the grey-skinned Awoken pointed at him and growled, "And fuck you, too, Duncan! I'm not that far along!"

Throwing his hands up in mock surrender, Duncan started to step away from her, shaking his head. He was trying to fathom some sort of apology to make up for what he'd just inadvertently done when Kellin teased, "C'mon, forgive 'im, Rey. Ya gotta understand, there was a lot of food in these cupboards when he last saw 'em."

Reyka turned purple again, this time directing her rage at Kellin as she demanded, "Is this what I have to look forward to? Twenty eight more weeks of you being a right asshole?"

When the Titan tried to catch her, she dodged him with expert poise, landing beside Duncan. He could tell she was far more irritated than she'd let on; there were the beginnings of tears clinging to the corners of her eyes. Placing a tentative arm around her shoulder, he pulled her against his side and soothed, "Shame ya had to go ge' yourself tied to Kellin."

Reyka looked up at Duncan before patting his hand where it rested on her bicep. She laid her head against his shoulder and nodded, "A right shame!"

"Poor Reyka," Duncan sighed, really pouring it on.

"Easy, there," Kellin frowned, crossing his arms over his chest in a terrible attempt at seeming unperturbed by being made to watch his best friend put his arm around his girlfriend. But Duncan knew Kellin better than most; there was a line, sure, but he was still rather far from crossing it.

"Le' this be our firs' lesson, little Hunter," Duncan turned his attention back to Ash, letting Reyka go so he could place a hand over his heart in mock-solemnity. Shaking his head to stifle a laugh, he explained, "No good can come from gettin' yourself wrapped up with a Titan. Only trouble."

"All trouble!" Reyka affirmed, allowing the Titan to pull her up against his chest. He kissed her forehead and she patted the side of his head a few times.

"But a fun bit of trouble, right?" Kellin pouted at Reyka.

"Yes, dear," Reyka responded, trying to sound perturbed but unable to hide her smile.

Ash, on the other hand, surprised everyone with her exclamation of, "You'll do it, then; finish my training? R-really?"

Duncan smiled for the reassuring squeeze Amri gave his forearm. He could sense the Exo was pleased he'd agreed to finish what Reyka could not. Nodding, the Hunter assured, "Yeah, of course! No' your faul' my Titan can' keep his hands to himself."

"Duncan!" Reyka sighed, shaking her head in exasperation.

"C'mon, little Hunter," Duncan pushed himself away from the counter, ruffling Reyka's hair as he did so. He looked over to Amri and offered the Exo a reassuring smile. Duncan knew Ash meant a lot to his Fireteam's Warlock; he wouldn't have agreed to her asking Duncan for help otherwise. So he'd needed to find a subtle way to let the Warlock know the Hunter would be in good hands; he'd take care of her. Nodding at Ash, he explained, "Since there's no' a decen' bi' of food lef' in this dormitory, le's go have a bi' of fresh air and leave the Lovebirds to their leisure."

As she tagged along after him, Ash sighed, "You can call me Ash, you know."

"Nah!" Duncan glanced over his shoulder to find Kellin leading Reyka back to the spot on the couch they'd been sharing earlier. While sliding on a pair of shoes, he held the door open for Ash, letting her pass through. He held back a smile. The Awoken Guardians seemed content to stay behind from the cafeteria, so Duncan looked back at Amri to offer, "You comin', Warlock?"

Amri nodded, following after the pair of Hunters.

Duncan turned back to Ash and explained, "I'll stick with little Hunter 'til you graduate."

"Then what do I call you?" she raised her eyebrow at him, crossing her arms over her chest. Before he could respond, she filled in, "Big Hunter?"

Duncan bit back a laugh, wondering aloud, "You sure you were mean' to be a Nigh'stalker? Sass like tha' suggests you migh'ta made for a better Gunslinger."

"There's still time for you to change my mind," Ash smiled up at Duncan.

Amri pressed past the Hunter and shook his head, "Are you sure you're up for this, mate? You're not too old to keep up with Ash, are you?"

Duncan just laughed, following after the Warlock and the Hunter. Too old? He'd show the Warlock too old!

It was early the next morning when he woke up to the opposite side of his bed empty he finally thought to be lonesome for Bailey.

He was awake so early, before the sun was up, on that particular morning because he'd agreed to take Ash out to the Cosmodrome for some preliminary patrols to gauge where she was at with her solar skills.

Despite Ash's desire to be made a Nightstalker, Duncan and Ash had agreed over their late lunch the afternoon before he would teach her what he could about Solar Magic and all the finer points of Gunslinging. She only needed to demonstrate mastery of one subclass to be assigned to a Fireteam and Gunslinging, in Duncan's humble opinion, was as good a skill to master as Nightstalking.

Not to mention the important fact that Duncan had never condescended to dabble with Void Magic and, therefore, would have made for a poor candidate of a Hunter to teach someone else how to Nightstalk, as it were.

Once Reyka could return to the field, the girls could work together again and finish up Ash's studies with Void Magic. He'd reasoned to the young woman she could be trained and ready as a Gunslinger before Reyka could pick out a name for her baby; Ash would have a Fireteam of her own before Kellin had the crib put together. Though, knowing Kellin, if a crib was to be constructed, the baby would be lucky if that work was completed before he or she would be brought home to it.

Stifling a yawn, Duncan shook his head and stretched the stiff muscles of his neck before standing up. He pulled his arms back and over his head, working all the tired from his limbs, and hurried into his armor. He was expected in the Hangar in fifteen minutes; it wouldn't serve to be late for his first outing with his new protégé. Deciding it was too early to send a message to Bailey, Duncan pulled a pair of black boots over his dark grey trousers and reached for his sniper rifle.

As he pulled the gun away from where it rested on the wall, he noticed a silver Warlock bond fall to the floor. Picking it up, unable to hide the devilish grin as he thought about how it must have ended up there two nights before, he tossed it across the room so it landed with a soft thud on his pillow. Considering all the ways he could tease Bailey about losing track of her things in his room, Duncan strapped the sniper to his shoulder.

It might be fun to see what she'd be willing to do to get her bond back… He'd have to think carefully about his options before he let her know he'd found it.

Feeling for the empty place at his waist where his hand cannon should have been, he sighed. Remembering he would need to borrow one, he felt reassured for the dim light coming from the shared common room. It meant Amri was already awake. Though, he reminded himself, Amri didn't sleep; he was always awake.

"Mornin', Amri," Duncan greeted, fishing an apple out of a basket on the counter. Polishing out a smudge by running it over the material of his sleeve, he took a bite.

The Exo straightened his shoulders, seeming to be surprised by the Hunter's sudden entrance into the shared common room. Raising an eyebrow in suspicion as Amri shuffled some loose paperwork around, almost like he was trying to hide his research, the Hunter watched the Warlock turn around to reply, "Good morning."

Noticing one of the old texts was lying open, Duncan picked it up and looked at the cover to determine what it was. There was no title, which meant it must have been a personal journal or memoir. The book was open to a passage signed by a man named Jaren and it reminded the Hunter of something he'd come across in Bailey's research. Hiding a smile, Duncan asked, "You helpin' her on yer own or because she asked?"

"In my own way, I suppose I've been helping her all along," Amri said, pushing two pages of notes towards Duncan which he'd written himself. On the top corner of the page was a list of books written in Bailey's handwriting.

Duncan smirked.

"Forgetting something?" the Exo teased, pointing to the empty holster at Duncan's waist.

"Oh, yeah. Ya think I can borrow a hand cannon?" the Hunter smiled like he was innocent, like he wanted the Exo to know how much he deserved to be helped. He took another bite of his apple and raised his eyebrow for good measure.

Shaking his head, Amri's eyes seemed to glimmer with amusement as the Exo held out his hand to summon Edward. The Ghost listened to his Guardian's simple command, "A hand cannon for Duncan, please."

"Down and Doub'?" Duncan feigned surprise. Placing his hand over his heart and bowing in a manner that could be construed as nothing but sarcastic, the young man teased, "Amri, you spoil me."

"Beggars can't be choosers, mate," the Exo chuckled.

Duncan took the hand cannon from his Fireteammate and placed it into the empty holster at his waist. His eyes gleamed as an idea came to mind, "Say, wha' if Ash and I go-"

"Don't say it," Amri pointed at Duncan with a menacing finger. His eyes were dull. "I'm trusting you to look after her; not drag her into the Hellmouth."

"C'mon, Amri! You le' her ou' with Reyka how many times?"

"She's got a better sense about her than you do," Amri countered, turning around to resume reading whatever text he'd left open on his desk.

"No', it seems, where Titans are concerned."

Amri didn't laugh.

"Nothin' bad's gonna happen to the little Hunter while she's ou' with me," Duncan reassured, hoping Amri could understand his seriousness. When he seemed to interpret the Exo was unconvinced, the Hunter clarified, "Besides, it's obvious she's somethin' special to ya."

Duncan watched Amri's demeanor change, the way his shoulders seemed to tense. He seemed uncomfortable as he turned back around to look at Duncan, muttering, "How do you mean?"

Smirking, the Hunter shrugged, "How many little girls've you brough' back to Tower? And Ash is the firs' one tha' sticks around?"

Not denying or confirming anything, Amri shook his head, "Just look after her, would you?"

"Yeah," Duncan agreed. As he pushed through the door and into the hallway outside, he turned over his shoulder to add, "You jus' make sure her boyfriend doesn' figure ou' how you feel."

Hurrying down to the Hangar, Duncan finished his apple just as he was rounding the corner to his Fireteam's bay. Brown eyes settled on the dark grey jumpship he'd had for many years. Ash was already there, sitting up on the edge of Amri's workbench with a mug of something warm looking which she'd brought to her lips.

"Good morning!" she greeted as soon as she'd noticed him, though not so quick she'd slurred her words together. She'd sprang to her feet like she was supposed to stand up to greet him.

Duncan waved a patient hand in her direction and laughed, "Si' down, little Hunter. We've go' plenty of time fer you to finish a cup of coffee."

He watched her smile, lowering her chin. As she hopped back up onto the table, she seemed to remember she'd brought a mug for him. Hasty and precise, she picked it up and clarified, "For you."

Lowering his chin in silent thanks, he tapped the rim of his mug against the side of hers before taking a sip of the dark liquid. It was warm and strong, about the only two things that mattered to him in a cup of coffee. After a deep breath, he pointed at her scout rifle and asked, "You like scou' rifles or did Reyka tell ya you do?"

"Huh?" Ash blinked, setting her mug down to run her hand over the pink scout rifle she'd used for the past several months.

"You ever tried ou' a hand cannon?"

"No," she said, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

Duncan finished his coffee and put the empty mug down next to Ash's. Drawing the gun he'd borrowed from Amri off his belt, he turned it over a few times before looking at his new student.

"Well, there's a firs' time for everything," Duncan smirked, putting Amri's hand cannon into her open hands. He noted the way she looked confused when he grabbed her pink scout rifle so, raising an eyebrow, he poked a bit of fun at himself, "Besides, this'll make me look pretty tough, wha' with the lovely shade of pink and all."

"Pink or no, I'm not sure 'tough' is quite how I'd describe you," Ash murmured, following after the older Hunter as he hopped up on the wing of his jumpship.

Reaching down to help Ash up, Duncan sighed, "Easy on the sarcasm; sun's no' even all the way up ye'."

It was late evening when the pair of Hunters returned from the field. Duncan had taken Ash to the Hellmouth, despite all of Amri's wishes he wouldn't. Spinning the familiar Palindrome with a skillful flourish of his wrist before returning it to the holster at his waist, Duncan hopped off of the wing of his jumpship to land on the ground. Then, being the gentleman he was, he turned around to offer his hand to Ash.

She hopped down to the ground, landing beside him, but ignored his hand. Her voice was quiet but Duncan could read her sincerity, "Thanks for the lesson, Mr. Baird."

"It was a pleasure, Miss Rao," he said, mocking her formality by using her given name, as well.

"Tomorrow afternoon, then?" she asked, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. When she tried to hand Amri's gun back to him, the older Hunter waved it off.

"You hang on to tha'," he said with a smile. "Amri doesn' need it and I dare say yer gonna be pretty good with a hand cannon someday, whether ya le' Reyka make up yer mind on it or no'."

Ash's cheeks flushed red. Duncan smirked. This little Hunter would need to learn to accept a compliment; just one lesson in the field and he could already tell she was going to be too good of a Guardian to be so shy. Modesty wouldn't become her.

He could see a future Fireteammate in the making in this one, someone he'd trust to watch his back and who was patient enough to look after Kellin. Deciding he'd have to offer his honest assessment to Amri, if for no reason other than affirming he was going no to make sure Ashari was ready to be one of them when she learned what was required.

"Tomorrow, then?"

"I'll see ya tomorrow," Duncan nodded, his eyes settling on the shadowy figure of a Warlock waiting near the doorway of the Hangar bay. He thought of Bailey, of course, but judging from the way he noticed Ash's shoulders tense, he understood this Warlock was hers, an Awoken Guardian named Rancourt. Keeping his voice low, he offered in the most casual tone he could manage, "Ya know I'll walk ya back to yer dormitory, righ'? Or mine if you'd rather check in with Amri firs'."

She looked away but he caught the faintest beginnings of a smile before she'd managed to hide it. Her voice was just a whisper, "Thank you but I'll be alright."

Duncan nodded, watching her go. The way she seemed to recoil from the male Warlock's arm around her shoulders like he was a nuisance to her made the Hunter frown. He wondered if she felt for the Exo the way he felt about her. With a sigh, he called out after her, "Ash! Dus' off yer boots! Wouldn' wan' Amri to know I took ya to the moon. I'd never hear the end of it."

She turned around, exaggerating the way she stomped her feet on the ground, offering, "He's going to know as soon as he sees that Palindrome!" But she waved to him nonetheless.

Duncan just laughed and watched Ash go. Seeing the other Warlock made him wonder what Bailey was up to. He hadn't seen her the day before, which wasn't entirely out of the ordinary. She was a very busy Warlock, what with all of her research. But Duncan missed her, though he wouldn't have admitted to it even if the alternative was facing an entire platoon of Dreg with no gun.

"Al?" he wondered, watching the way Albert hovered to life out of the safety of his armor. His white-blue light illuminated the Hangar, which was growing dim as the sun slid behind the mountains.

"Yes, Guardian?"

"Will ya send Bailey a message for me?"

"I could be convinced," the Ghost teased, hovering into and out of Duncan's reach as the Guardian tried to capture him to expedite having his message sent. When it seemed the game had ended, Albert came to a rest on the table next to his Guardian before agreeing, "What should I send?"

"Ask her if she's missing her bond," the Hunter smirked. "And then ask wha' she'd do to ge' it back."

"You're an animal," Albert accused. "I'm not sending her that!"

"Why no'?"

"It's rude!" Albert said with a finality that left little room for argument.

With a sigh, Duncan nodded his head and crossed his arms over his chest. As he made to leave the Hangar and head towards his dormitory to clean up, he decided, "Then ask her if she wants to grab some dinner."

"Very good," his Ghost agreed.

"I'll ask her abou' her bond myself."

"You're impossible," Albert muttered but he sent the message along anyway. Duncan and his Ghost had been together long enough to understand each other better than anyone else either of them knew. Albert had established his own relationships with all of the important people in his Guardian's life. He was well accustomed to making excuses to Bailey to make up for his Hunter's poor behaviour.

The pair was halfway back to their dormitory when Duncan grew impatient enough to ask, "Well, wha'd she say?"

There was a long silence so pronounced Duncan stopped walking and turned around. Albert, who had been hovering rather near to him, crashed into the Hunter's chest plate. When the Ghost looked up at the Guardian, Duncan wasn't sure if he'd explain why he'd crashed into him or answer his original question.

"The message won't go through, Guardian."

Duncan inhaled and as the breath filled his lungs the entire rest of his universe felt like it had come crashing down around him. If the message wasn't being received, he knew it could only mean one thing.

Bailey wasn't in the Tower.

And there could only be two reasons for that…

"Try again?" Duncan muttered, reaching with an absent minded hand for the wall beside him for support. He already knew Albert wouldn't be successful.

"Guardian, I've tried six times already."

"The Vanguard?" he wondered, more to himself than to his Ghost.

Albert flashed a light over Duncan's face, meant as reassurance, but the Hunter could only close his eyes as he listened to the Ghost's reply, "She hasn't been assigned."

"Then the medical wards?"

"Nothing."

Duncan breathed a silent sigh and took off running, not in the direction of his dormitory but in the direction of hers. If Albert was even still following behind him, the Hunter didn't know. He had only one thing on his mind and it was finding her and making sure she was alright.

"Bailey!"

He was knocking on the door with urgency. It was, in retrospect, more forceful than was really necessary. But he still remembered what she'd tried to do the night before and, armed with that knowledge, he could only expect the worst. He had to see her with his own eyes. He needed to feel her small frame tucked safe within his arms.

"Bailey?"

A female Hunter with powder pink hair opened the door. Duncan pressed past her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder to move her aside without hurting her. He was already halfway to the Warlock's door when the other Hunter's voice reached his ears, "What do you think you're doing? You can't just barge in here uninvited."

"He is invited."

Duncan turned around to face Reyka. She was standing beside him, placing a reassuring hand on his forearm, but he could see the concern written across her stern features as plain as day.

"Where is Bailey?" he asked.

"I thought she was with you."

Duncan pulled his arm away from Reyka's grasp and wrenched open the Warlock's door. A single glance inside confirmed his worst fears. The room was in perfect order which was not at all the way Bailey would have left it if she'd gone out for patrols or left for the archives. The way she kept her space was best described as organized chaos; a perfect balance between clutter and disarray with a system or organization only she could discern.

He knew she wasn't in the Warlock halls; her books were stacked in neat rows across her shelf and the bag which would have contained her notes was hanging empty over the side of her straight backed chair. And he knew she hadn't simply gone out. Everything was so eerily tidy Duncan had to step forward and through the open doorway to process it all.

He ran his hands through his hair in frustration before clenching his right hand into a fist. It was Reyka's voice pulling him away from all of the hurt and anger and confusion and, well, the everything he was feeling all at once. She had her hands on his forearm, looking up at him with a worried expression, "What's going on, Duncan? Wasn't she with you?"

"Bailey's gone," he whispered, feeling his heart clench when he picked up Eyasluna from where the gun had been left on her desk. Like a taunt, a torture that this, his gun, would be the only real proof she had really gone. When he picked it up, a single piece of paper was lying underneath.

"What have you done to Bailey, Hunter?" the girl with pink hair accused from the doorway.

Duncan ignored her to read across the slip of parchment in the Warlock's even hand, "Forgive me, Duncan."

He crumpled the paper into his fist. Where had he heard that before?

Reyka kicked the door closed so only she and Duncan were inside. Duncan watched her take the gun from his hand, turning it over and inspecting it. When she looked up at him, her piercing blue eyes had the faintest glimmer of fear evident within. With a hesitant tone, she confessed, "Bailey was upset when she came home yesterday morning. She wouldn't talk to me. Kellin said she'd had a disagreement with Amri. I-I'm sorry Duncan. I thought..."

But she never said what it was she thought.

Duncan didn't respond but took Eyasluna back from Reyka when she offered it to him. He pulled his arm away from her and made to open the door so he could leave.

"This is about Thorn, isn't it, Duncan? Is Bailey in trouble?"

He hesitated before nodding, "Seems like it. Bu' she can' have gone far. I'll bring her home, Reyka. I promise."


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: Before we all start hating Bailey, let's not forget there are two sides to every story… I hope this chapter will help add some perspective to Bailey's character.

"Forgive me," she whispered, brushing her lips over his as soft and sweet as she'd ever known how. She couldn't risk waking him - not even for the real kiss she so desired. One look at his handsome dark brown eyes and Bailey knew she wouldn't be able to follow through with what it was she intended; what would be necessary to keep him safe from all the nightmares and horrors she dared not believe she was capable of inflicting.

She thought of the night before and the way his eyes lit up when she'd agreed to marry him; how she'd never felt more sure of wanting anything as she did about wanting to start building her life together with him. Though, no matter how happy she was to be looking forward to the idea of marrying Duncan, she couldn't forget what had been her original intention that night.

Things had been made so obvious to her in the depths of the Hellmouth. It wasn't enough, anymore, for Thorn to have her halfway; to be made to share what Light there was in the Warlock who had gotten herself tangled up in far more dangerous a scheme than she could have ever imagined. The gun had known, perhaps for a while now, Duncan was what stood in its way of possessing Bailey. And now the Warlock understood it too.

She remembered making the decision, the moment she'd watched Kellin hoisting Duncan over his shoulder to carry him back to their dormitory; something needed to be done about her gun. There was a reason now, better than any she'd thought of before, wrapped around her ring finger she was going to end whatever will the Thorn would wish to impose over her.

And maybe it had been selfish for her to agree to marry him one night and turn around to run away the next morning. She could only hope he would forgive her when the time would come she might need to explain herself. For now, the Warlock could see but one path forward and she knew she'd have to follow it alone.

Playing at bravery and lying to herself her decision was all for the best, she started to stand up from the edge of his bed but found herself not yet ready. So she knelt again at the side of his bed and closed her eyes…

She'd known Duncan long enough to expect if he figured out what she intended, he'd try to gather her up in his arms and tell her everything in the entire universe would be alright if she'd just let it. That he'd be there beside her the entire way. Until the end. Until the gun was gone and she was his and he was hers.

And the Warlock knew herself well enough to realize she'd believe him; press her cheek to the place his neck met his shoulder so she could breathe in his scent, gunmetal and the outdoors, and wrap her arms around his waist. She'd let him follow her for as long as he was able.

There were many reasons she knew she had to go alone but one was most compelling. If there was to be an end for one of them… Well, it wasn't going to be Duncan's end.

She'd have all of herself to give or there would be none of it left for either Thorn or for her Hunter.

Leaning nearer, though not so close she was touching him, Bailey felt the faint beginnings of tears forming in her eyes. She tried to ignore the pain in her chest which she knew to be her own heart collapsing in on itself as she watched Duncan smile but turn his face into the soft material of his pillow. She stopped herself from reaching out to brush his bangs away from his face so she could admire his handsome, sharp features and the subtle tan only the sun could manage draw from his skin. She wanted to run her fingertips over the strong line of his jaw where a few day's worth of stubble had formed.

She wanted to be reminded of him, just like this, so when the time came she'd need to remember just what it was she was fighting for, this memory would be the one she held on to…

But she couldn't risk waking him up. She had stayed, already, for far longer than she'd planned. And she'd known the promise she'd made him the night before hadn't been fair when so much was uncertain about her path forward and what might be waiting for her at the end of the road. She was in love with this man. Her heart was his for as long as he'd have it. No force in the entire universe was strong enough she'd have turned down the chance to be his wife.

Whether there was one strong enough to prevent it against her will remained to be seen.

So Bailey, defeated and more heartbroken than she'd known she could feel, pulled her hands to her chest to rest over the place above her heart and whispered, "I love you always, Duncan; no matter what is yet to come. You're everything that's beautiful in my universe and the other half of my heart."

Without risking another thought which might deter her, she picked up Thorn from Duncan's bedside table and turned away. As she made to slide it in place at her waist, she remembered where she was and decided, instead, to return it to Rindel for safekeeping. Her grey eyes fell on Eyasluna, alone on the bedside table, and she decided to honor his wish she take it with her when she went.

Bailey picked the gun up and cradled it against her chest, as though holding his gun could stave the pull she still felt for her handsome, headstrong Hunter. Drawing a shaky breath, Bailey put Eyasluna on her belt in Thorn's place. She had her hand on the door when she felt compelled to turn around for what might well be one last look at Duncan.

There was a void in her chest where her heart should have been when she looked at him, curled around the place in his bed that had been hers for so long. And she felt weak for wanting, even then, to turn around and crawl back into her place beside him. To forget this silly idea she'd destroy the curse on her own and, instead, find a way to let Duncan save her from herself. This burden wasn't his to carry…

And she couldn't ask it of him.

She loved him too much. For any of it and all of it.

She reached for the bond at her bicep without a thought as to why she'd done it. Pulling the scuffed gunmetal ornament down her sleeve, she hung it over the Hunter's sniper rifle and turned to leave.

For almost as long as she'd been alive and in the Traveler's service, he'd given her every reason to want to fight the Darkness; he'd given her a reason to hope there might be a future for the two of them somewhere safe in the Last City. If Thorn's power over her was strong, she knew those hopes she had for their shared future would have to be stronger. She couldn't leave him with nothing… not when he'd given her everything.

Tears were stinging at her eyes and her throat had gone dry as she let the door fall closed without a sound behind her. But she didn't let the tears fall. She kept her grey eyes trained to the ground as she hurried along on her way.

"Leaving?" Amri's voice cut through the silence of the otherwise empty common space of Duncan's dormitory. Amri was standing at the counter, cleaning his pulse rifle. All the parts and pieces were torn away from each other and Bailey couldn't help but wonder if her heart might have looked the same way were someone to take her apart.

Wiping a single tear from the corner of her eye and hoping her fellow Warlock hadn't noticed, Bailey straightened her shoulders and held her head high to fake a confidence she didn't feel in the slightest. Her chest ached for what she had just done, for all she was yet to do, but her voice was level as she replied, "Yes, I was just on my way out."

"I'm not letting you out of my sight until the Hunter wakes up and I understand what he intends to do with you."

Bailey stopped right where the hallway ended and the living space began. She met Amri with a glare, replying in a level tone, "I thought by now that might be rather obvious."

"Obvious?" Amri questioned.

"I was allowed to stay, was I not?"

In a bitter, scathing reply the Exo almost growled, "I can't begin to fathom what lows you're capable of falling to, Warlock, now that I know what power compels you."

"If you mean to imply I'm not welcome here," she headed for the door as her voice trailed off. And the way it sounded was strange, even to her own ears.

She could feel herself starting to pull away from the conversation; one part of herself, the one she knew to be good, detaching to make room for the other. The detachment that always meant the gun was going to get its way. But she fought against the separation, feeling the tears coming back to her eyes and knowing she'd managed to hold on to what she could of her true self. Each time she'd fight the pull it was always a bit harder to win. Bailey stepped forward to stand at the counter, opposite Amri, as she steadied herself.

"I'm going," she said, making to step around the other Warlock.

When Amri caught her by the wrist before she could pass him, he shook his head, "No, you're not."

Bailey looked up at him and scolded with as much conviction as she'd ever known herself to possess, "Amri, I'm not whatever terrible thing you fear I am. Not yet. And I have to believe I won't become that thing."

"A rose by any other name," Amri let his voice trail off; the scathing tone was gone, however, and Bailey knew she'd managed to pique his curiosity. Instead of speaking further, he turned his attention back to his hands and the piece of the pulse rifle he'd been polishing. Seeing his silence as her opportunity, the younger Warlock headed for the door.

When her hand was wrapped around the handle, Amri interrupted, "As I said, you're not going anywhere."

Bailey gasped to find the Exo had turned around in an instant and was behind her. He firmly pressed the door closed and gripped her shoulder a bit tighter than she might have liked to pull her back into the dormitory.

Wrenching her shoulder away from the Exo's grip, Bailey spun away from him and knocked his hand off of her shoulder. By this time, she was no longer able to control her tears and a few slid down her cheek. She was glaring, she knew, when she stared up at him but her voice was soft, "Amri, just let me go. Please."

He stared down at her, pulling away like he'd just realized that his actions had been out of line, but if there had been a trigger, something there to change his mind, Bailey didn't know what it was. Straightening his shoulders, he pointed to the gun at her waist and asked, "Where did you get that?"

"From Duncan," and her voice cracked in the middle. She turned away, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. It had been more painful than she had expected it to be, something as simple as saying his name.

"Where's your bond?"

She turned around, having wiped the tears away from her eyes, to look at Amri. Feeling for the bare place at her arm where the bond should have been, she took a deep breath and confessed, "I've left it with Duncan."

Amri looked at her for a long time, holding her under an intense stare. After a moment, he seemed to find what he was looking for as he murmured, "You're leaving."

Bailey nodded, not sure if she would remember how to breathe now that someone else knew her secret. She wrapped her arms around herself again. When Amri reached out to touch her forearm in a gesture meant to comfort her, she let him, confessing, "Something is to be done about Thorn. It must be destroyed before I lose what's left of the Guardian I am."

Amri was quiet for a long time, uncomfortable in the silence. Shaking his head, he confessed, "You understand I cannot let you leave like this."

Bailey looked away to study his hand where it rested on her arm. She didn't speak right away as her mind raced at the possible meanings hidden in his words. Scared of what it might do to her resolve if he was to go wake Duncan, Bailey knew she'd have to act fast and plead a convincing case. Drawing a deep breath, she whispered, "The longer I stay, the more I become a danger to him, Amri. To him and everyone else. If you let me leave right now, the only danger I pose-"

"Don't say it," Amri warned, releasing her arm so he could bring her gaze up to meet his. His eyes shined a light that the young woman chose to interpret as empathy when she met them. He studied her, letting his fingertips fall away from her chin. It was sadness she could hear in his voice when he wondered, "How did such a terrible evil find you, Bailey?"

Satisfied he understood her, the young woman shook her head. She bit her lower lip to keep herself from crying any more than she already had in front of the Warlock.

"Where will you go?"

"We both know I shouldn't tell you," she whispered, feeling faint as her heart began to race. She didn't want to think she couldn't trust Amri, but if she wasn't even sure she could trust herself, how could she trust anyone?

"Just a clue," he reasoned. "In case you take too long and a certain Hunter we both know can't be consoled from his searching."

Bailey shook her head and looked away, "When that time comes, it will already be too late."

Amri put his hands on her shoulders, smoothing the midnight blue fabric from where a few wrinkles had settled. He nodded, seeming uncomfortable, as he dropped his hands away from her. But if he was not in agreement with her decision, he didn't make it known. Instead, he offered, "Is there another way that I can help you?"

"Promise you'll look after Duncan?" she asked, no more than a whisper. And the way it hurt, physically, to ask such a favor of him. When he didn't respond, Bailey pulled the glove off of her left hand to show Amri the ring. Her hand was shaking and so was her voice when she continued, "I can't imagine he will understand; even I don't, not everything, but maybe you can help him start."

"Bailey?" he questioned, holding her hand in his as he looked at the ring and then at her. "Have you any idea what you're doing?"

She gave him a few moments to work it out for himself but she nodded nonetheless, "There are only two outcomes, Amri. I'll destroy that gun or it will destroy me. In either case, it shouldn't take long. One outcome or the other."

She watched the Warlock, wearing a black robe to compliment his gunmetal grey frame, reach out to steady himself on the counter. He tapped a patient finger next to several rounds of ammunition intended for his pulse rifle but he remained silent. When he looked at her again, Bailey knew it was sadness and regret he felt. She could tell he wanted to talk her out of it, but perhaps she was stronger in her conviction than she'd given herself credit for.

"He will never forgive me when he finds out what I've done," the Exo whispered.

"Chin up, Amri," Bailey whispered, only able to offer him what she knew was a weak smile. As she pulled her glove back onto her hand, she added, "It's likely I am the one who won't be forgiven."

"Bailey," the Exo shook his head.

She patted his forearm, adding, "No matter what happens, please make sure he understands I loved him when I had him. Even after the gun had me. He made the life I've lived worth everything. And if I come back, if he'll still have me, I'm going to marry him."

"When," the Exo muttered.

She offered him a curious gaze, not sure she had heard him right.

"When you come back," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and holding her against his chest. It was in that moment Bailey understood Amri had always been a better friend to her than she'd ever deserved. His voice was low when he elaborated, "You'll marry him when you come back; if I know him even a little bit he'll still have you. And I'll look after him while you're gone. At least that much I can promise you."

"Thank you."

She hugged him a little tighter before he whispered, "Look, if this is about anything I-"

"Shh," Bailey cut him off, pulling away as she patted his shoulder. Her voice was still a whisper, "I forgive you. And if our places were opposite, I can't say I would have reacted any differently. We both want the same thing."

"Hey, mornin' you two!" Kellin was smiling from the doorway. He had his arms crossed over his chest and was leaning against the doorframe leading into the common area. Smirking, he teased, "Glad to see you cranky ole Warlocks have finally made up."

Bailey offered Kellin a weak smile before she glanced back at Amri. Lowering her chin, she murmured, "I really must be going."

"So soon?" Kellin whined. "But Duncan's not even awake yet. He'll wanna see for himself you two aren't still sore at each other."

Amri ignored Kellin and called out after Bailey, "I'll see you later, Bailey. Don't lose hope."

Bailey hesitated at the door for a moment before pressing it open and hurrying out into the hallway. On her way out, she could make out Kellin asking, "Where's she off to, lookin' so upset? Should we wake him up?"

"Let him rest," Amri muttered. "I wasn't as nice to her this morning as I should have been."

By the time their voices were hushed for the morning bustle of activity, Bailey could hardly see a few feet in front of her for all the tears stinging at her eyes. She could hear the blood rushing through her ears as she ran past what she presumed were other Guardians milling about at the start of their mornings. She kept her gaze lowered as she traced the all-too-familiar hallways that led from Duncan's dormitory to hers.

As soon as she had managed her way inside and closed the door behind her, Rindel materialized to ask, "Are you sure you know what you're doing, Guardian?"

Bailey caught her Ghost, cradling him to her chest as she fought back a sob. Reyka was in their shared living space but the Warlock didn't pay her any mind. She rushed back to the doorway leading to her bedroom, ignoring the other woman's greeting of, "Good Morning, Bailey!"

"Of course not, Ghost."

As she stepped across the threshold and let the door fall closed behind her, she pressed her back against the metal surface of the door and slid down it to sit on the floor. Rindel was still allowing the Warlock to hold him against her chest. He hadn't said anything else, even when Bailey began to dry her tears on the sleeve of her coat.

Burying her face in her knees, she let the tears fall. Still holding onto her Ghost, her best friend, she ignored Reyka when the Awoken woman knocked on the door to ask, "Bailey? Is everything alright?"

"She probably got dumped," came the cruel reply of another female voice; a Hunter the Warlock knew to be Ellen. She, a human with powder pink hair cut short, shared their dormitory but not their Fireteam. It was no secret Ellen and Bailey were not friends.

"Bailey?" Reyka tried again. This time her voice was more pressing.

"I'm alright," Bailey answered, hoping she'd hidden the tears from her voice.

"I know you're lying, dear," Reyka said. As Bailey listened, she could hear her best friend sliding down the door on the other side, presumably to sit in the same manner as the Warlock. "Do you want to let me in?"

"No," Bailey replied. And in the silence, she stood up and began the quiet, patient task of picking up her things and tidying her space. Her mind was racing and, as she fluttered about the room with Rindel hovering over her shoulder, she tried to concentrate on breathing.

"What happened?"

She ignored Reyka and stacked her books, wondering if she might be back within the safety of the Tower in time to return them before they were late or, if she never came back, whether it would be Duncan or Reyka who would turn them in. More tears formed in her eyes but this time she didn't let them fall.

It would do her little good to feel sorry for herself. Fair or no, this was the hand she'd been dealt; if she wanted a chance at happiness after all was said and done, she'd need to make it for herself. For both herself and Duncan. With shaking hands, she shuffled through her notes.

Palamon. And a man named Jaren…

She didn't need to read the pages she was thumbing through to remember that's what she had written there. To know it was there, on Mars, where she needed to make her last stand.

The last Guardian to lose himself to Thorn hadn't left her any clues for how she might lift the curse, perhaps because he hadn't broken it, but there were countless other scholars who had. Left clues, that is. Not lifted the curse.

As far as she knew, no one had yet managed the feat. Not in a way which had spared the Guardian, at least.

Bailey lit her palm in Solar flame, feeling the anger raging behind it all, and burned the pages to ash over her waste bin. She didn't need these works anymore. She already had a pretty fair idea of what she had to do.

"Guardian?" Rindel asked.

"The gun, please."

Rindel materialized the menacing ebony hand cannon that had already caused his Guardian such grief and threatened even more still. She placed it on top of her desk, in the center of the freshly cleaned space, so she could best study it and drew a shaky breath.

"Bailey?"

Ignoring Reyka's concerned tone, the Warlock sat down at her chair and removed her gloves. Running bare fingertips over the cold metal surface, the young woman wasn't able to feel the texture for the sensation from Thorn she could only liken to electricity which pressed back against her. Her voice was a low whisper, "There were so many others, yet here we are, you and me."

"Bailey? I'm letting myself in."

The Warlock heard the Hunter trying to press the door open behind her but it was locked. The sound of the knob turning just the smallest bit before it would no longer give brought a sad smile to the Warlock's face. She closed her eyes and picked up the cursed hand cannon, "What sort of monster would you have me become?"

"Open the door, Bailey!"

"I know there is no other way," the Warlock whispered, wondering what she'd really expected reasoning with the gun might do. When she opened her eyes, the young woman caught a glimmer of her own reflection in the lens of her Ghost. Her eyes were glowing a most eerie shade of green, fading out as fast as she'd come to notice it.

Finding her breath caught in the back of her throat, the Warlock put the gun down on her desk again, this time aside from where a stack of plain paper had been tidied. With a hasty hand, she scribbled a simple note over one of the sheets: Forgive me, Duncan.

"Damnit, just let me know that you're alright!"

Bailey took Duncan's hand cannon off of her belt and laid it down over the note she'd left for him. Bailey couldn't take Eyasluna with her; if she wasn't successful, Duncan would never get his gun back. She was satisfied her Hunter wouldn't find her, not where she was headed and with her notes destroyed there were no otherwise obvious clues left to guide him. But she knew her room was the first place he would come looking when, eventually, he'd think to find her.

She hadn't told Amri where she was going either, which was a bit more unsettling, there was always a chance she couldn't do this on her own. But before the doubt could cloud her mind and weaken her resolve, the Warlock took a deep breath and shook her head. Looking at her Ghost, she asked in a calm voice, "Will you record a message?"

Rindel hovered just a touch higher to indicate he'd heard her. When he lowered his lens to meet her gaze, she knew he'd agreed.

He seemed puzzled, so she explained, "You'll know when the time is right for you to send it. And if we're both unable, some Guardian will rescue you and come know our story."

Bailey thought of the Thorn, her curse. She reminded herself of those times the Darkness of it would press heavy against her chest, like a weight. Like a force which wished for nothing more than to extinguish her Light. She knew this way was the only way. She wasn't all herself anymore; hadn't been for, how long had it been?

She let the words flow straight from her heart, everything she wanted Duncan to know. All the things she'd never told him and all the things she wished she could. It would be a love letter-this message-and if he ever saw it, she'd already be gone. Whatever meaning such a word would still hold.

"Got it, Guardian," Rindel reassured. He seemed sad, like he would have rather not known his Guardian was prepared to meet her end. Like he didn't believe the other side of the coin pointed there-to a Darkness they might not be strong enough to survive.

Remembering Amri's final words to her, telling her not to lose hope, Bailey pulled a few things from the top drawer of her desk. It would be with these, her most treasured possessions, she would ground herself while she fought to keep a hold of her Light. And they'd be the things she kept with her until the end.

The first thing she took was a photograph of her Fireteam, Reyka, herself, and Karina-16, taken just after the three women had been assigned together. The three were standing near the ruined fuselage of a crashed airplane near the Forgotten Shore in the Cosmodrome. Karina was sitting on the wing with both Reyka and Bailey standing below her, holding their helmets and smiling in an absurd and exaggerated manner.

Feeling her heart flutter in her chest as she ran her hands over the cool metal surface of the bond that had belonged to Karina-16, her mentor, Bailey fastened it in place around her arm. Karina had always been so strong and level-headed. She had prepared Bailey well for what it was going to mean to lead the life of a Guardian; the platinum-haired Warlock wanted to believe her mentor would have understood her decision.

Neither could have imagined what evil the little platinum-haired Warlock would eventually run across.

The final thing she took was a photograph of Duncan, asleep in the cockpit of his jumpship. The pair had been delayed in queue while waiting to rendezvous with Reyka and Kellin for a game of Rift when Duncan had dozed off. Bailey ran her fingertips over the photo, admiring the way the sunset around the horizon of Venus had reflected through his sandy-blonde hair. When she felt her chest constrict, the Warlock pressed the photo over her heart and closed her eyes to keep the tears from falling.

Before she could feel any more regret, she tucked the photos into a pocket at her waist and put her gloves on. Almost as an afterthought she reached for Thorn and shoved the gun into it's holster, muttering, "You're far more trouble than you're worth."

"Bailey?" Reyka knocked again. "I'm not going anywhere. And you have to come out sooner or later!"

With a deep breath, the Warlock blinked away any last traces of her tears and opened the door. Her voice was calm when she greeted, "Good morning, Hunter."

She watched the Awoken woman arch one of her midnight blue eyebrows, displaying every bit of the skepticism she felt about whether or not this Warlock might be having a 'good morning'. Reyka crossed her arms over her chest and stared back at Bailey with her piercing blue eyes searching for something. Wetting her lower lip, she wondered, "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Bailey replied, running a nervous hand through her platinum blonde hair. She didn't want company but she knew she had to offer something or the other woman would become even more suspicious. Reyka was quite unconvinced, she knew, watching the way the other woman narrowed her eyes just the slightest bit as she peered down at the Warlock. Clearing her throat, the blonde added, "I'm headed out for some fresh air if you'd care to join."

Reyka took a step back so she was no longer obstructing the Warlock's path out into the hallway. Her cheeks had grown a slight shade darker than normal and it was Bailey's turn to raise an eyebrow. The Hunter seemed almost nervous, like she was hiding something. But she shook her head and tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear, "Out? Out like how?"

"Rey?"

The Hunter looked down at the Warlock, then, and Bailey was taken aback by the expression she found there. She looked, well, rather frightened as she confessed, "I'm not cleared for field work any longer."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm pregnant, Bailey," the Hunter leaned close to whisper, holding onto her best friend's hand as she did so.

The Warlock felt her heart beating faster in her chest, unsure if she ought to be excited or terrified. Grey eyes met blue and Bailey whispered back, "Does Kellin know?"

Reyka nodded and said, "We're going to keep it."

Bailey smiled, wrapping her arms around the Hunter's shoulders as she breathed a soft sigh. She tried to remember this feeling; the quiet, calm happiness the pair were sharing. Because, for the moment, she wasn't the one who got to feel afraid, it was Reyka's turn to have Bailey be brave. The Warlock's voice was soft as she confessed, "You'll be a brilliant mother, Rey."

"You'll be her godmother, right?"

Starting to pull away, shaking her head, Bailey said, "Oh, Reyka, I-"

"Please say you will, Bailey!" Reyka squeezed her best friend's hand again.

Tears were stinging at the corners of the Warlock's eyes and when she looked up at her taller counterpart, she could see the Awoken woman was also crying. Together, both women began to laugh at one another, or maybe at themselves. Smiling, Bailey nodded, "Yes, of course."

"The hell's the matter with you two this morning, anyway?" Ellen muttered, pressing roughly past Reyka so she fell against Bailey and it was the Warlock holding them both up.

When she'd finished passing by to return to her own room, Reyka rolled her eyes and Bailey laughed at her best friend's reaction. The Warlock led the way down the hallway and to their shared common space, demanding, "Just promise, if it's a girl, you won't name her Ellen!"

Reyka smiled, wrapping her arms around herself as she shook her head, "Of course not!"

Bailey marveled at how much different Reyka could seem now that she'd shared her secret; it was like the happiness and relief she felt were radiating from her. The silvery stardust that hovered over her pale skin seemed to sparkle, rather than just glow. Her eyes gleamed with delight or maybe pride?

"Kellin thinks it's a boy," Reyka confessed, now seeming shy.

"He probably just wishes for a boy so he won't have to worry about all the naughty little Titans that might chase after his baby girl."

Reyka laughed.

"When she's grown up, Kellin will be too old to do much about it," the Warlock added.

"She's going to have us!" Reyka defended. "And Amri and Duncan, too."

Bailey felt her smile fade away for mention of Duncan. Every time she was reminded of him, she felt guilty. Taking a deep breath and glancing at the door, she wondered if she had delayed her departure for too long. Would it matter if she stayed another day? Maybe two? But she knew, of course, that she needed to leave.

Before she lost her resolve.

Before she saw Duncan again and let him convince her of all the reasons she ought to stay.

"Bailey?"

"I should be going."

"Why the rush?" the Hunter teased. "I'm sure the Forgotten Shore can wait until after you've had a proper breakfast."

Bailey pulled an orange out of the bowl that always waited on the countertop, smirking at Reyka in a gesture of defiance. Her voice was low when she said, "I can't let the new recruits scare all the Fallen away!"

"I'm sure Duncan wouldn't mind being an outlet for you to use in expending of your frustration, Bailey!"

Raising an eyebrow, the Warlock tossed her orange at the Hunter. She was halfway into the hallway when she heard the snap of Reyka catching it. With tears stinging at her eyes, Bailey tried not to think about whether it might be the last time she ever heard her best friend laugh.


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: This is the second to last chapter, I think. I should be able to tie things up and complete the story with this and just one more. It's been an interesting long-weekend of revising and I'm really feeling nostalgic for these characters. I think I missed writing Duncan.

She'd been gone for three weeks before Duncan could finally admit to himself she'd left on purpose.

He'd been sitting in the back of the bar with Ash and Kellin when he'd finally been willing to accept the painful, biting truth which had been laid before him. The trio had just returned from a day out on patrol, which for Ash had been another adventure in learning how to Gunsling. Kellin and Duncan were searching for any sign of where Bailey might have ended up. The trio was waiting for Amri to join them and the Exo, surprise, surprise, was running late.

Admitting she was really gone and that it had been done on purpose, even though it had only been to himself, had struck like a blow. But it wasn't his ego taking the brunt of the hit; he was worried for her, obsessed with finding her to make sure she was alright. He loved her. Duncan had never thought to picture how empty his life would be without Bailey. He'd never even had the thought put into his head until the night she'd tried to leave him.

And she was gone too soon afterwards that very next morning for him to really believe he might need to imagine what it would be like without her.

"Chin up, Duncan," Ash said, sliding a glass of scotch onto the table in front of him. She pushed some whiskey towards Kellin before taking the chair across from the Titan, opting for the seat beside her mentor. When neither man made to respond, Ash took a long drink of her pale ale and added, "She's still out there. And you'll find her. I believe in you."

Duncan nodded, feeling numb. He looked at Ash, reading the conviction behind her confidence he would be successful in his venture. This young woman, a Nightstalker turned Gunslinger, had hardly known Bailey before she'd gone missing. Any affection his charge felt towards the missing Warlock was, he knew, all to the credit of her admiration for him; a Hunter who had made himself her friend as much as her mentor.

"Why such long faces?" Amri asked, sliding a stack of four worn leather grimoires onto the table beside Ash before he took the final open chair.

"We're gonna have to go further," Kellin admitted. It might have seemed he was ignoring the newest addition to their table had it not been for the way he lowered his chin to greet the Warlock. The Titan leaned backwards in the rickety wooden chair so the legs creaked under the added strain. Duncan watched him turn to Ash and then look over to him, wondering, "What do you think, old man? Is Ash ready to come with us?"

"Far as she wan's," the male Hunter nodded, running a hand through his bangs before he looked down at the scotch in front of him. Try as he might, Duncan could think of nothing but finding Bailey.

"I was talkin' to Amri," Kellin smirked.

But Duncan ignored the banter he knew well enough to expect to follow.

He couldn't understand why Bailey would leave after, well… She'd promised to marry him for Traveler's sake! He just couldn't bring himself to believe she'd gone off on her own. Not after everything they'd promised to start together. He'd promised to look after her. To be right beside her every step of the way. But he'd drug Ash and Kellin through every cavern, alcove, and underground hiding place he knew on the moon. There wasn't any trace of her.

Reyka, in between the occasional blights of morning sickness and her increasingly frequent naps, had spent the weeks since her best friend had gone missing going through the Warlock's possessions for any sign or clue of what she'd been thinking by up and running away. Bailey had destroyed her notes. She'd left him with nothing; no leads and no hope.

Well, unless you considered Eyasluna. She had been so kind as to leave him that...

She'd promised that they would be together, the entire way, for as long as it took to destroy Thorn. How could she have changed her mind overnight? Unless she'd never intended to marry him at all. And there was a thought it hurt far too much to even consider.

"We will find her," Ash said, laying her hand on Duncan's shoulder. Her amber eyes shined with determination and perhaps a bit of defiance, like she dared him to doubt her or say otherwise. The older Hunter had seen progress in leaps and bounds where her self-confidence we're concerned.

"Yeah," Amri said, already opening the cover of one of the books he'd brought with him. "Chin up, mate. The solar system is a big place but we've just started searching."

Nodding his agreement with them, the Hunter bit back a smile. Duncan raised his glass, clinking the rim of it against Ash's, before he took a drink.

But his good mood didn't last. After seven more weeks of searching everywhere he knew on Venus turned up no trace of the Warlock, the Hunter was discouraged.

He spent the next two weeks that followed being angry with her, taking out the more physical manifestation of all his negative emotions on younger Guardians in the Crucible. If his ranking in Lord Shaxx's Crucible games hadn't compared to Bailey's when they'd first met, he'd sure done his part to give her something to work towards if she ever thought to return.

If that gun didn't kill her first.

It was after a particularly successful afternoon and evening in the Iron Banner Amri found the Hunter to set him straight. Duncan's jumpship had just pulled into the Hangar. Amri had been at his workbench, making some modifications to a scout rifle which belonged to Ash to hide the fact it was really Duncan he sought. When the young man hopped down from the cockpit, the Exo called out, "You quite finished embarrassing the children, mate?"

"Wha'?" Duncan asked, dropping a helmet and sniper rifle on the end of the table opposite Amri.

"You heard me," the Exo challenged, lowering his chin so his eyes met the Hunter's.

Duncan understood Amri was calling his behavior childish. He also knew, in no uncertain terms, the Warlock was chastising him for whatever misguided emotion had sent him trekking through the Crucible for an excuse to ignore the true root of his problem like it might go away on its own. But having made the realization didn't help it sit in any a more welcome way with the Hunter.

How did the Exo expect him to behave?

Bailey had been the one to leave him. It might have been a wound well on its way to healing had it not been for the constant, persistent reminders he ought to know where the Warlock was. Like the meeting he'd been made to suffer with her Vanguard or the quiet looks cast his way when he went, alone, to all those places he was so often seen with her. He wasn't her keeper; her leaving had made the point painful in the purest of ways.

She'd left him with nothing with which to find her.

Not even a goodbye. Just her hastily scribbled 'Forgive me'.

Had it been because she'd never found in him all of the wonderful, beautiful things he'd fallen head over heels in love with about her? Hadn't he been enough of a reason she'd fight for whatever kind of future two Guardians might be able to find together? Because, to him, she'd been everything. All of what would ever matter and any reason to keep himself alive.

Without her, what was left?

And the line of thought he would entertain while at his lowest which suggested he might not be worth anything without the person who meant everything to him, perhaps more than any of the others, was what hurt the most. Or it might have been the part about waking up to find her side of the bed empty, every fucking morning. He was still bitter about it…

"'Scuse me fer findin' somethin' better to do with my time than waitin' around on some girl," the Hunter muttered, running a gloved hand through his bangs, which had matted against his forehead from the helmet he'd worn for thw better part of the evening. He'd be mad at her to mask the hurt, he decided.

"I know you don't mean that," Amri grumbled, slamming the gun down with more force than he'd probably intended. As the sound echoed around the Hangar, Duncan felt like it was rattling through his empty chest, around and about all the pieces of his heart he was still too proud to admit were broken. Amri scolded, "She's more to you than 'some girl'. Stop pretending; at least tell me the truth."

Brown eyes traveled to the ground where the Hunter was left to study his boots; stained in red clay that mixed with the fine white dirt from the moon. His shoulders hunched for the shame he felt that the Warlock, one of his best friends, could see through whatever bravado he chose to lean back on. He was hurt and upset and lonely, not angry with her like he was choosing to pretend.

Duncan didn't mean it, what he'd said, and Amri had called his bluff.

When the Warlock didn't say anything and, instead, returned his attention to the scout rifle still on the table in front of him, Duncan sighed, "Wha' would you have me do? Drag my friends to every place I know from here to Saturn?"

"If that's what it takes," Amri said, his tone hard and leaving no room for argument.

Duncan looked up, studying the Exo with a careful gaze. He was trying to understand where the other man was coming from and what reaction he was trying to coerce from the Hunter. These interventions from the Warlock were rarer now that he'd been a Guardian for as long as he had. But, the Hunter supposed, there would always be a reason for Amri to keep him from getting too far off track. Frowning, the Hunter shook his head to indicate he didn't understand.

"You don't think she'd do the same?"

Those words, more than any the Warlock had said before them, stung the Hunter like Arc Magic. Drawing a shaky breath, Duncan looked away, back towards the direction of his jumpship. He knew the answer. Or, at least, he wanted to believe that he did. But the way she'd left it between them… Duncan wasn't sure that he knew anything anymore.

After a prolonged silence, the Exo challenged, "Well, haven't you got anything to say?"

Scratching the back of his head to relieve the strain of his apprehension, the Hunter wondered aloud, "You seem sure of yourself. Fer someone tha' didn' know she was leavin'."

Watching the way the Exo's shoulders tensed and the other man returned his attention to the scout rifle so he didn't have to look at his friend told Duncan what he'd been secretly suspecting. Amri knew more than he was sharing.

"Anythin' you wan' to tell me?"

The Warlock didn't reply.

"If someone was lookin' ta drag my girl through half the places in this solar system he knows," Duncan paused, watching the way Amri's hands froze over the scout rifle like he was afraid to touch it, like he was afraid to move for fear of giving himself away. The Hunter continued, "I'd maybe se' him on the righ' track firs'."

"I've got my ideas on where she might have gone," Amri offered, meeting Duncan's gaze with confidence. The Hunter knew the Warlock knew understood the subtle mention of his protege. The Exo hadn't denied he was in love with Ash, but the Hunter was still not satisfied. Was Amri keeping secrets for Bailey?

"Wha'd she say to you the mornin' she lef'?"

"She told me she loved you," Amri shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The Hunter could tell his friend was uncomfortable. And maybe he needed to be. Remaining silent, Duncan ran a hand through his bright hair and waited for the Exo to continue. Amri shook his head, "And she was leaving to destroy Thorn."

"And you let her go?" the young man accused, annunciating each syllable in his disdain.

"Of course," the Exo replied. "Do you doubt that she is capable of success?"

The Hunter squirmed.

He didn't doubt Bailey but Thorn was an evil he couldn't begin to comprehend. There was no way to know what the gun might be able to change in her.

"Tell me what you know," Duncan demanded with a hard tone. His eyes were narrowed and his arms had found their way, crossed, over his chest.

"She made me promise I'd look after you," Amri confessed, lowering his gaze back to the scout rifle. He pushed the gun forward an inch or so as he shook his head. "I think she knew what leaving would do to you."

It was evident the Exo regretted his actions, but the anger was coursing through Duncan at an alarming rate. The Hunter knew nothing else. He couldn't find it in his heart to feel sympathy for his friend but he wasn't convinced the anger wasn't directed towards Bailey, either. It was too hard to determine the difference when the other man had been keeping secrets and the woman had known what a terrible toll her leaving might have.

Duncan clenched both of his hands to fists and bit his tongue until he tasted blood. He wouldn't lose his temper until he was certain of where this anger should be directed.

"When Bailey told me what she intended, well, I thought it was a good idea," the Warlock whispered. "I, for one, never doubted that she would be successful. She is a remarkable Warlock."

"You said yourself tha' gun was more powerful than we realized," Duncan growled, clenching his hands to fists. "And here I find ou' ya le' her leave on her own."

"I'm sorry, Duncan."

Turning around so the Warlock couldn't see how much pain hearing an apology had caused the Hunter, Duncan tried to concentrate on breathing to calm his temper. Sorry didn't bring Bailey home. Sorry didn't tell him where to go looking for her.

"It was the right thing," the Exo whispered. "To let her go."

He'd never been more angry at Amri. That the Warlock had let Bailey leave? That he'd known all along how worried the Hunter had been about her and hadn't said a word? How could he keep a secret like this one from someone who considered him family?

"I understand you are upset, and you have every reason in the world to feel that way, but Bailey was of sound mind and absolute determination the morning she left," Amri confessed. His shoulders tensed and he shook his head, "If it had been Ash…"

As the Exo's voice trailed off, Duncan turned around to face him again. His dark brown eyes burned his anger over at the other man, leaving no questions about how he'd taken such a comparison. The Hunter's voice was a low scowl, "Don' think for a minute tha' you understand or could ever know how it feels."

Amri looked down at the ground.

Duncan couldn't find words.

He couldn't think straight.

He felt betrayed.

Confused.

A hundred thousand things all at once until a sudden and unexpected calm washed over him. If Amri had looked Bailey in the eyes and believed her when she'd told him she was going to destroy Thorn, wasn't there some merit in that? Was Duncan the one betraying her if he didn't believe she would be successful?

Amri was the wisest, most level-headed Warlock he knew. If he'd let her leave, he must have believed she would do what she was setting out to do. And there had to be a reason she'd wanted to go on her own. Regardless, there was very little good which could possibly come from being angry with Amri now. What was done was done…

"She's ou' there alone, Amri," Duncan sighed, running a frustrated hand through his bangs. Shaking his head, the man began to pace the length of the workbench separating the two of them. His words came faster after he started walking, "All this time. And we coulda been helpin' her. Wha' tha' gun migh'ta done to her in the time she's been away… if anythin' happens to her, I'll never forgive myself."

"I've read every text she ever took from the archives on the subject of that gun," the Exo confessed in a quiet tone. He had come around the workbench to put a hand on Duncan's shoulder, holding him in place. When their eyes met, Amri said, "I can't explain it, but I have a feeling she might have gone to Mars."

"Bailey hates Mars," the Hunter dismissed with an edge of disbelief in his tone.

"What better place to hide than the last place you'd think to look for her?"

Duncan sighed, leaning backwards so he was sitting on the edge of the table next to his sniper rifle. Shaking his head, the Hunter wondered, "What makes you so sure?"

"This," the Exo replied, taking a worn old hand cannon from its place on his belt and handing it to Duncan. When the Hunter was still unconvinced, Amri added, "And the story behind how it was made."

"The Las' Word?" Duncan wondered aloud, reaching out to run his hand over the gun he held. The metal was warm to the touch, even through the thick gloves he wore. There was magic he couldn't understand in the weapon. He wondered if whatever sort of magic it was might be stronger than the dark sorcery haunting Bailey. His voice was low when he asked, "Amri, how did you ge' this?"

"I had to call in some favors," the Warlock confessed. "But most things can be had out in the City for the right price."

Duncan had only ever heard stories about this gun; myths and legends whispered about in the darkest corners of the Tower's bars. He'd never seen it with his own eyes. And, until a few moments ago, he would have been willing to believe it had never really existed at all outside of the fantasies of jaded Guardians who were well past their prime.

Disbelief still etched across his handsome features; the Hunter confessed, "So it mus' be true then, wha' they say abou' this gun."

Amri nodded, "I think so."

A long moment of silence passed between the two Guardians as Duncan continued to inspect the gun. It was in remarkable condition, considering how weathered everything about its exterior appeared. Whatever Guardian had owned this gun last had taken good care of it…

"I can't tell you exactly where she is. But this gun might be the start of the answer you're looking for," Amri ventured, adjusting his left sleeve so it was tucked into his glove in perfect order. He straightened his shoulders.

"How do you mean?" the Hunter asked.

Duncan's mind was racing a thousand light years a second as he tried to remember anything he'd ever overheard about that gun. But there was nothing that stood out; all he could remember were the boasting, prideful stories of Guardians who had won and lost this gun. Tales of the Crucible and legends who had long before lost their Light.

"Do you know the story of how this gun was made?" Amri asked, sitting down on the table beside Duncan. When the Hunter offered to return the hand cannon, the Warlock took it without a word.

Watching expert hands turn the weapon over and upon itself, inspecting the details, the Hunter replied, "Mos'ly, I think. Something abou' a rogue wanderer in the deserts. The fallen hero of humanity's failed attempt to colonize Mars."

"That's not entirely correct," Amri confessed. Laying a hand on his friend's shoulder, the Exo shook his head, "It was forged by the true hero of this tale. Created in the fires of rage that his mentor, your rogue wanderer, should have forsaken his Light for the dark sorcery of Thorn; the man who first wielded this hand cannon became the first of the Gunslingers. He drew out the true power of this gun from the common thing it was when it was first given to him. He killed the monster Thorn had created in the shell of one of the Traveler's first Guardians."

"You mean Dregen Yor?" Duncan asked. Then he added to clarify he wasn't talking about Amri's hero, "The Wanderer."

"Yor, Jaren," Amri dismissed. "Call him whatever you like. The Last Word destroyed not only Thorn but also the Guardian who wielded it. The Last Word's master made it home but Thorn's never did."

"This won' help Bailey," Duncan recoiled from the Warlock and the gun, turning his back on both of them as he hopped off of the table to look out at the last traces of sunlight fading behind mountains barely visible from his vantage in the Hangar.

If hurting her, extinguishing her Light, was the only way… Well, it would be someone else's hand to pull the trigger. Duncan couldn't destroy the person he loved most in the world. Even if the need would arise. Even if she asked it if him.

He could never be strong enough.

"I think you should take it with you, mate," Amri said. His voice had been soft, almost soothing, but Duncan didn't want to listen. "You can't know what to expect. She's been gone long enough Ikora has taken her name off of the list of missing Guardians. And the only thing we know for sure about that gun is it's unpredictable."

Duncan turned around to find the Warlock was offering him the gun. Shaking his head when the Warlock pressed the smooth handle into his palm, the Hunter sighed, "Amri, I can' take this-"

"Under the influence of Thorn, there's no telling what she might do," Amri cut him off.

Duncan looked at Amri and wrapped his hand around the gun, taking it from the Warlock. He nodded but found his throat was too dry to form any sort of reply. Whether or not he liked what his friend had to say, the Hunter trusted him. If Amri thought he should take the gun, he'd take it.

Having it didn't mean he'd have to use it…

It was seven weeks later, when the Hunter found himself trudging through a rather terrible sandstorm in a particularly unfamiliar portion of backcountry on Mars, he found his first real lead. He'd become separated from Ash and Amri following a short firefight with a small scouting regiment of Cabal.

It had been before the winds had picked up.

When it became evident the storm was severe enough Albert wasn't going to get a message out to the pair of them until it passed, Duncan decided to seek shelter. He happened upon what he'd thought to be an abandoned bunker by accident; a lucky chance.

Once inside, he'd found evidence a Guardian had claimed this shelter. Whether such claim was temporary or permanent remained to be seen.

As Duncan wandered across the threshold, his eyes focused on a table that had seen better days. There were a few old notebooks stacked up on the far corner and some broken pencils. Opening the cover of the top book revealed the volume was empty.

A few shreds of paper revealed the owner of the notebooks had taken with them whatever they had written. Biting his lower lip from behind the shelter of his helmet, Duncan picked up one of the broken pencils and pulled the top notebook forward. He pulled off his right glove and ran his fingertips over the smooth paper.

The faintest smile formed over his lips as he felt the invisible depressions another writer's pen had left in the page. He'd learned this science from Reyka; the Hunter had tried everything to find a clue about where her best friend had gone. The notebooks Bailey had left in the Tower had been empty of clues, but this one…

Brown eyes focused on the way the smooth graphite spread across the page, leaving behind the light lines the previous owner had unintentionally pressed into this page from the one previous. Duncan felt his heart racing in his chest and the Hunter tried to suppress the hope he felt.

Bailey had a strong, bold hand when she wrote. Heavy letters which would, often, press into the page behind them. Duncan tried to tell himself there were probably lots of Warlocks who pressed their own writing into the page too hard.

But there was something about finding these notebooks here on Mars that made the Hunter hopeful. Zavala wasn't interested in leading a research project on Mars. He was fighting a war. Ikora's scholars were not often stationed here; not the ones who might have carried pink notebooks, at least.

It was impossible to say what had been written on the page before but Duncan hadn't given up. Tearing it away from the metal spiral holding it in place, the Hunter folded it up and put it into one of the pouches at his waist like he'd just found the most precious treasure on all of Mars. Amri would know, once the winds died down, if there was a way to find out what had been written there.

"I'm close, Al," the Hunter muttered to his Ghost. "I jus' need her to make a mistake. Leave me a clue."

"You are the one to blame for teaching her how to sneak around undetected in the wilds," the Ghost reminded, flashing his light on a metal chair like he intended to suggest his Guardian sit down. And were he paying more attention to the weather, the Hunter would have understood.

Outside, the winds raged against the cliff walls which towered over the underground bunker where Duncan had made his camp. Smirking, the young man tried to bite back his smile, "Don' remind me, Al."

Duncan thought about all the time they'd spent in the Cosmodrome; him teaching her how to hide her tracks, how to exist without leaving a trace. He remembered chasing her through the hollowed out bodies of airplanes, letting her laughter and the sounds her robe made as it brushed against her surroundings remind him often of where she'd gone.

Remembering the way she'd gasp when he'd sneak up behind her to throw his arms around her waist brought an unwelcome tug of loneliness at his heart.

He had let her remain, always, one step ahead of him but he'd wanted to know she would be safe every time he wasn't there to watch out for her. The Hunter had taught the Warlock how to fire a sniper rifle; Traveler forbid she ever found herself in a situation where she'd need to practice the lesson. He'd taught her how scavenge for reserve ammo. How to hide when she was outnumbered. How to use the resources around her in ways she might not have considered.

And in return, she'd helped him find the simple joys in what might have otherwise been monotonous about his time alone in the field. Like the way it felt to have her back pressed against his chest in front of a campfire. Or what the stars looked like right before the sun would rise to snuff them out. Those memories only further convinced the Hunter he'd have to succeed in bringing her home.

If this bunker was, or ever had been, hers, she'd broken the first rule he'd ever taught her. Never leave behind a trace of anything someone might use to track you. But if it was hers, well, Duncan would be content just to find her and would happily spare her the lecture.

"I think she wants you to find her," Albert ventured, hovering to rest on the table beside his Guardian.

Pulling the glove back over his hand, Duncan laughed, "Whether she wan's it or no', I'm gonna find her, Al. I'm gonna find her and bring her home and buy her a new gun so we can leave tha' old one ou' here and forge' this whole thing ever happened."

"Yes, Guardian," Albert replied. "I have no doubt you will."


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: Well, this is it… for anyone still reading. Again.

It was five weeks after he had been in her bunker Rindel sent Duncan the message. He'd been in the Tower, altogether a rarity ever since he'd allowed himself to be convinced he was so close to finding Bailey as he'd been on Mars. He'd been queued not far from Lord Shaxx, waiting with Ash and Amri.

This day was special.

It was the day Ash was being named a Gunslinger. Finally, permanently. She was being rewarded for her hard work and careful practice. And at the end of it all, she'd be assigned her Fireteam.

"Is it time?"

"Cayde won' begrudge you fer showin' up early, little Hunter," Duncan teased, ruffling her hair so a few strands fell forward out of the braid at her back and into her face. He looked through the shadows at his charge before smiling at the way she tossed her hair out of her eyes.

From his right, Amri placed a reassuring hand on his girlfriend's shoulder but agreed, "Go on, then. We'll be right here."

The tall young woman bit back a smile of her own as she worked her fingers in line with the Exo's to squeeze his hand. Nodding, she leaned her forehead against his and whispered, "Wish me luck, Amri."

"You don't need luck, Ash," the Warlock chuckled. "The hard part is over, and today we celebrate your accomplishments."

Duncan turned around to notice Eris Morn was looking at him with a curious sort of intensity. When she seemed to realize he'd noticed she was staring, the dark ex-Guardian straightened her shoulders and sneered. Or maybe she had smiled; it was hard to tell the difference.

Raising an eyebrow, Duncan descended the steps until he was standing in front of her. He waited for her to acknowledge him, watching the way the dim glow of her stolen eyes dimmed for a brief moment like she needed to squint to be sure who he was.

Eris remained silent as Ash brushed past her mentor on her way to the Vanguard. As her steps faded, the woman in front of Duncan shifted her weight and glared into her orb with such an anger the Hunter wondered if it might shatter for the sheer strength of her will.

"Good morning, Ms. Morn," Amri's voice cut through the silence. He'd wandered over to stand next to Duncan.

Eris ignored the Warlock, instead leaning forward and peering up at the Hunter until she was so close their faces were almost touching. The right corner of her mouth turned upwards towards a smile; she seemed pleased he hadn't recoiled to move away from her. Her voice was low but once he'd heard it, Duncan could think of nothing aside from the taunting tone which danced underneath her words, "You won't save her with that, Hunter."

He looked at his waist where she seemed to be pointing at the hand cannon on his belt; The Last Word. He hadn't needed for the slight woman recoiling from his Light to detail of whom she spoke. It was little mystery to any Guardian of the Tower that Duncan Baird was draining every last resource available to him in his desperate effort to find Bailey Greene.

Teasing, almost taunting, Eris smiled, "That gun would extinguish what remains of her Light."

"What, you would offer your unsolicited advice now?" Amri demanded as he took a step closer to the erratic ex-Guardian. His hand was clenched to a fist at his side and Duncan could sense the rage radiating from him. Almost growling, the Warlock hissed, "You were silent as a shadow when I inquired eight weeks ago. What's changed?"

"You brought him with you this time," she muttered, almost to herself, as she shrugged a shoulder in Duncan's direction.

The Hunter pressed his hand to the Exo's chest, holding his friend in place. The entire time, his eyes never left Eris' small frame. He held back a shudder when he recognized the look of triumph she passed to the Warlock for what it was. He couldn't begin to guess what game she was playing at but he hadn't seen Amri lose his temper so fast with anyone. When the Exo turned away, Duncan lowered his hand.

Keeping his tone even, the Hunter asked, "Do you know of another way I can help her?"

"Help her?" Eris pondered, returning her gaze to the orb in her hand. She wavered, uneasy in her stance, until a low laugh rumbled forward from her chest. In an instant, she stopped laughing and was nearly up against him once more, whispering, "Why do you think she's in trouble, Guardian?"

"Amri!" Ash's voice echoed off the stone walls, magnifying her excitement as the sound of her boots in his ear indicated she had hurried up the stairs. There was the slightest trace of concern in her tone when she inquired, "Duncan?"

Turning around, the older Hunter offered Ash a small smile. He watched the way Amri lifted her feet off of the ground, spinning her in a circle before he pulled her close enough she could wrap her arms around his neck.

"It's you!" she laughed. "You're my Fireteam."

"That's wonderful, Ash!" Amri replied.

"You and Duncan."

"Wha' abou' Kellin?" Duncan wondered, scratching the back of his head before crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yes," Ash smiled up at her mentor. He was only taller than she was because he was standing on the landing and she was still one step below. Smoothing her cape over her shoulder where it had become ruffled for Amri's excitement, the dark-haired young woman added, "And Reyka; when she's cleared for field work."

Following after Ash as she led Amri up the stairs towards the Plaza by his sleeve, Duncan ran a hand through his hair. He thought of Bailey and the empty place still left on their Fireteam for the Guardian who would make six. He felt his resolve grow stronger; if she was still out there, they had a place for her, still, with all of them.

"It's your Light or hers, Guardian," Eris called out after the trio as they ascended the stairs. Duncan hesitated, looking back at her for a brief moment. Eris smiled, an eerie, painful expression because it looked so foreign on her sharp features. Her voice was low, "The Thorn shall have what it wants, Duncan. But the question remains; what will you choose to do about it?"

"She knows more than she's telling us, mate," Amri shook his head. He and Ash had slowed their pace at the top of the stairs to allow for the Hunter to catch up.

Before Duncan could respond, Kellin's voice cut across the Plaza, "Hey! We didn't miss 'little Hunter's' graduation, did we?"

Dark brown eyes fell on the pair of Awoken who, for the moment, rounded out his Fireteam. Smirking, the Hunter replied, "'Fraid so. Little Hunter wen' and graduated. Gotta star' callin' her Ash now."

"She's got herself a Fireteam, too," Amri added, gentle in the way he pressed his girlfriend forward so she was standing in front of Kellin and Reyka.

"Oh, I'm so sorry we missed it, dear," Reyka frowned. But she opened her arms for Ash and the human Hunter fell into her embrace with a smile. "I guess we walked too slow."

"Babe, you don't walk anywhere," Kellin grumbled, already starting to step away from her. Duncan noticed a glimmer in the Awoken's eyes which indicated he knew Reyka wasn't going to like what he said next. The Titan smirked, "You've been waddling for weeks."

"Would you like me to?" Ash asked, pulling away from her former mentor, mindful of the swollen expanse of her midsection.

"Indeed," Reyka glared, placing her hands on her hips as her piercing blue eyes followed Kellin's retreating frame.

Ash managed to catch the Titan in two strides. Squeezing his ear, she led the whining man back to where Reyka was standing. Duncan laughed at the way his friend cringed, but the Hunter and the Warlock made no effort to lend a hand.

"You're a jerk!" Reyka pouted, managing to find a nerve when she poked her Titan's shoulder.

"Ouch!" Kellin pouted, rubbing his arm. When Reyka smiled, however, he smiled back, kissing her forehead, "I still need that arm to finish buildin' the crib."

Before Duncan could reply, Albert hovered to life out of his armor to say, "You've received a message, Guardian."

"It'll have to wai'," Duncan said, his brown eyes following after Kellin and Reyka who were leading the way, albeit slowly, towards Ash's favorite bar. He smiled when Ash looked over at him, and he finished, "We've got some celebratin' to do."

"I think you ought to reconsider," Albert tried again. When Duncan faltered in his stride to get a better look at his Ghost, the bright silver box added, "It's from Rindel."

Duncan felt his heartbeat quicken as his brown eyes shot to the direction his friends were headed before returning to his Ghost. When again his eyes traveled to the retreating figures of his friends, Amri nodded his head at the Hunter and added as reassurance, "We'll wait for you at the top of the stairs, mate. Take your time."

Nodding, feeling his like his mouth had gone dry, the Guardian ran a shaky hand through his hair and turned around like not looking at his Fireteam would amount to some sort of privacy. He nodded at his Ghost, not trusting his voice. Duncan straightened his shoulders nonetheless, holding his palm towards the sky to indicate he was ready to listen.

Albert hovered over his Guardian's palm as he began to explain, "Rindel said Bailey told him he would know the right time to send it to you."

The Hunter nodded, not sure if he was even breathing. A thousand thoughts were racing through his mind at once; if she was alright, what had happened to her in the time she'd been away, where she'd been…

"Duncan."

His heart stopped when he heard her voice.

Despite everything he'd felt in the loneliness she'd left him, her voice was such a welcome comfort he couldn't stop his hands from trembling. So he crossed his arms over his chest and shifted in a practiced but uneasy manner from left foot to the right.

He couldn't quite bring himself to feel angry or hurt. He was made anxious by being faced with the uncertainty surrounding her message, and that she wasn't there in front of him left a void in his chest which hurt far more than he'd ever imagined any emotion might feel. Closing his eyes, he drew a slow breath, preparing himself for whatever it was that might follow.

The goodbye he'd never received.

The news he was only getting a message now, after all the time that had passed, because her Light had finally gone out. That there was nothing he could do to save her.

"Duncan," and he tried to believe he could hear her smile. "I hope you know I'm sorry. I-in case not, I am. I'm sorry for so many things. Leaving alone, though, most of all."

"Bailey," he whispered, shaking his head, clenching his right hand to a fist and bringing it to rest over his heart. He was too afraid to open his eyes and lose forever the image of her he'd kept safe in his mind. Blue robes and platinum hair, sparkling grey eyes he knew could stop him where he stood. His desire to have her there with him almost made her tangible. But she was light years away…

"You told me once; it's not how we make the mistakes, but how we correct them that matters."

Duncan grit his teeth, trying to remind himself to breathe. He remembered the day. The pair of them climbing weak limestone for higher ground. Watching the comings and goings of squads of Fallen spreading out through the rolling hills. He'd been talking about a sniper rifle for Traveler's sake! He'd been teaching her how to mark her targets. Not trying to impart some sort of sage advice.

He listened as her voice continued, "I hope you'll understand how utterly I regret finding that hand cannon. I feel ashamed…"

And here her voice faltered as Duncan let his hand fall away from his heart. He could hear the fear in her voice; the fear he knew she'd kept hidden away from Amri the morning she left. How long ago had it been now? Five months? Six?

She'd been afraid, he realized. She hadn't been sure about her decision to leave and, even worse, he hadn't been there to stop her. He felt guilty, angry, and confused. He cursed fate she'd slipped away before he'd realized it. Duncan was overcome with the terrible, repressive feeling of helplessness which washed over him like the pain just before stasis.

He wished, then, for the first time he could take her place. That he could have carried the weight of her burden; that it would have been he who had fallen victim to the dark sorcery of the cursed hand cannon. He would trade his life for hers, certainly.

"I'm ashamed I've shown my worst side to the best thing to ever happened to me," and her choked sob snapped him out of his thoughts, spurred his heart back to life when it had stilled in his chest.

He listened to her soft sigh and remembered what it had felt like to be the one who could cause her to make such noises. He heard the wooden chair she had at her desk creak and opened his eyes. His heart sank when he realized she'd recorded this message before she'd left the Tower. This message wasn't the assurance he'd hoped in secret for.

Her words were crushing as they continued, "If Rindel has sent you this message, well, I suppose it means I've failed."

His palms were sweating as he bit his cheek. It couldn't be… Bailey wasn't gone.

Running a hand through his hair, Duncan looked at Albert and held his breath. His Ghost bobbed in the air, reminiscent of shrugged shoulders.

Duncan felt even worse still when he heard her voice continue, "I-if you're not Duncan… well… If you've found Rindel, my Ghost, then it must mean I really did fail. I hope that-I hope you'll find Duncan. Duncan Baird. He's a Hunter. My Hunter."

"Tha's enough, Albert," Duncan turned around, away from his Ghost. Bailey's voice continued on the recording but he tuned it out, pretending he wasn't affected by all of the different emotions he could still make out. Taking several quick but deliberate steps towards the railing at the edge of the plaza, he gripped the cold metal until his knuckles turned white; not that he could have noticed for the thick gloves over his hands.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying hard to find and settle on just one emotion. It was too much to try to process them all at once.

"There are coordinates," his Ghost said, hovering beside his right shoulder. When the cool blue light he always used to comfort his Guardian seemed to have no effect in settling the wash of emotions surging through the Hunter's eyes, Albert hovered to tap the man's shoulder. His voice was soft, as the Ghost made no effort to hide his own sadness, "In case you'd like to bring her home."

His throat was dry, his chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself… Nothing in the entire universe felt right as Duncan processed his Ghost's words. In case he wanted to bring her home… Then he was too late. He'd lost her forever.

"Alright, mate?" Amri asked, keeping his voice soft as he wandered forward to stand at the Hunter's left. He placed a heavy hand on his friend's shoulder.

Duncan opened his eyes to take in the sunset over the Last City. The place he'd hoped in secret to make their lives together. He felt numb; this place wasn't something beautiful. Not anymore. Not without her. Amri's hand fell away, and Duncan hardly noticed. Tapping his knuckles against the railing, he shook his head 'no' but affirmed, "In a way, I sp'ose it is."

"Duncan?" Ash asked, leaning over onto the rail on both of her forearms. When he looked over and met her amber eyes, he saw the worry there, of course. But he could tell she already knew. Her intuition had always surprised him. She could read the emotions in him before he'd come to recognize them in himself.

"I guess she's gone," he affirmed, closing his eyes and shaking his head. It had hurt to say it, those words. Like a confession, an admission of every way he'd ever failed the most wonderful woman he'd ever known. Duncan couldn't feel anything until Ash wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed her cheek to his.

"I'm sorry, Duncan," she whispered. When she looked up at him, there were tears in her eyes.

Ash could cry for a woman she'd hardly known and Duncan couldn't allow himself to feel anything? Hell, maybe they all knew he wouldn't be able to grieve her until he'd brought her back to the Tower. Maybe none of them could… none who had known her well, anyway.

Amri remained silent, perhaps sulking in whatever guilt he felt for having been the last one to see her before she'd gone. But Duncan was so overwhelmed with the terrible sense of loss, like he was missing an entire part of himself, he couldn't be angry.

He couldn't be anything.

He sighed, patting Ash's shoulder as he pulled away. Running a hand through his hair, he shook his head again, muttering, "I have to go. There are coordinates."

He hoped they would understand. Duncan wasn't sure if he could explain.

Watching Amri as the recognition flashed through his silver eyes, the Exo replied, "We'll come with you. She's a part of our Fireteam, too."

Duncan nodded, thinking of Reyka and Kellin sitting in the bar waiting for them all. He tried to ignore how difficult it was going to be to tell the Awoken Hunter, in particular, what terrible truth he'd just been made to know.

She and the Warlock had been together since the beginning for both of them. The entire time she'd been gone, Reyka had been talking about her plans to make Bailey her baby's godmother. Duncan had wanted, more than anything, to keep his promise and bring Bailey home. This life they had, the good parts and the bad, well, it had been theirs. The entire Fireteam's. They'd made it together. Fought for it, bled for it… and now they all had lost her from it.

This grief wasn't his alone.

"Don' tell Reyka," he whispered. "No' ye'. We can figure ou' the bes' way to tell her. There's no need to upse' her."

Ash nodded, gripping Duncan's forearm and leading him towards the Hangar. She didn't say anything as she worked her hand into Amri's and gave it a gentle squeeze.

She watched him with a careful eye in the reflection of the cockpit's front window. He was seated behind her, across from Amri, with his left hand wrapped around a Warlock's bond, resting in his lap. He held his chin in his right hand; hung his elbow on the armrest beside him.

He kept his eyes lowered.

Ash had assumed for a rather long while he was inspecting Bailey's bond; a solid cuff of silver which would have glowed purple, like Void Light, if she'd had it on. It had taken the young Hunter the entirety of the first half of their journey to realize her mentor was concentrating all of his energy just to hold himself together.

His grief was almost tangible as he held it all inside. Ash could feel it pressing between them all like a wall, flowing to fill the cockpit like a rolling blanket of smoke. He'd been silent the entire way around Venus, and there was nothing at all she could think to say that might comfort him.

Of course it hurt her heart to see him so upset. Even when he'd been at his lowest points through the difficult endeavor of finding his Warlock, Duncan had never been quite so deflated. He'd held out hope, she supposed, until the last of it had been stolen away. Out of respect for her mentor, she remained silent.

Looking across the cockpit to where Amri sat beside her, Ash drew a deep breath when she saw him looking back at her. Pressing her palm against the top of his forearm, she felt a little more like some of the weight against her chest had been lifted. Watching her mentor lose the most important woman in his life had done wonders for deepening her perspective of what it meant to love and to lose in this new life she'd been awoken to.

But it had also reminded her nothing was permanent… Not even a Guardian's Light. Each moment she had in this life was a gift; she wouldn't take them, those moments, for granted.

"We're approaching the coordinates," the familiar tones of Amri's voice snapped the young Hunter out of her reverie. A few strands of her dark brown hair had escaped from her braid, and she quickly made to tuck them behind her ear.

Catching his reflection in the window to her right, Ash watched Duncan lean forward towards the space in between herself and Amri. He didn't say anything as Ash turned around to look at him. He was pale and his eyes had lost their shine. It struck her, looking at him, she couldn't remember a time when this man hadn't smiled. He'd always led her forward with a careful sort of nonchalance that was as practiced as it was natural.

She hadn't expected there might be another side to him.

"How long?" Ash wondered to Amri.

"Five, maybe ten minutes before I can put us on the ground," the Exo replied. "Is that enough time?"

Duncan stood up and turned towards the exit of the cockpit. He was reaching for his helmet before he replied, "Yeah, seems righ' to me."

When he'd left, Ash gripped Amri's wrist and pressed her fingertips against the wires that wound beneath his frame like veins. Her voice was a low whisper, desperate despite herself, "Oh Amri, what will we do for him?"

Shaking his head, turning her hand over so he could run his fingertips over her palm, Amri shrugged, "Nothing we can do, I'm afraid. Just give him some space, maybe time. I don't think it's really sunk in for him yet what we're out here to do."

Feeling himself rematerialize after transmat always left a lingering sense of dizziness to pull at the Hunter's equilibrium. This time, however, he was thankful to be feeling something physical. It made him realize the way his emotions had been manifesting over the past several hours weren't the reality.

Duncan pressed his fingertips against the place where his helmet met his neck and exhaled. As he inspected the barren landscape laid out before him, the Hunter squinted past the sunlight fading out against the horizon. He couldn't keep the smirk from washing over his features. It had been here all those weeks ago he'd suspected he'd found her; he was standing not far from the abandoned bunker he'd hidden within from a sandstorm.

He'd gotten here too late…

"Any sign of Rindel?" Duncan asked as his Ghost hovered forward from his dark grey chest plate.

"Inside," Albert replied. He hadn't been able to keep the sadness from washing through his tone.

Nodding, the Hunter turned to look over his shoulder to study the familiar figures of Ash and Amri. The Exo waved, an indication they would wait for him at the jumpship. Duncan pulled a hand cannon, The Last Word, off of his waist and started forward towards the entrance of the bunker.

The space was small, and he'd been inside before. It hadn't taken long for him to clear the room. He was surprised to find it empty, but the faintest glimmer of hope burned in his chest because she wasn't there. Quiet and hesitant, he asked, "Rindel?"

"Oh, Guardian!" a Ghost cased in bright crimson hovered forward from a corner behind him. Shining bright blue light on the new addition and his Ghost, Rindel added, "Thank goodness you're here."

"Where's Bailey?" Duncan demanded, lowering his gun towards the place it belonged on his belt.

"Don't put that away!" Rindel panicked, rushing forward to nudge the Guardian's arm in an attempt to stop him from securing the gun away. "She's out, for now."

"She's alive?" Albert asked, hovering into space beside Rindel but keeping his light focused on the other Ghost.

"Of course!" Rindel replied; it was evident he was exasperated by the question. "What's left of her that hasn't been poisoned by that gun, anyway."

Albert and Rindel continued speaking but Duncan couldn't hear anything for the sound of his heart pounding against his chest. He reached forward to steady himself against the desk, quite certain he wouldn't have known the difference between flying or falling in that moment. Bailey was alive. She was alright. And he'd just found her Ghost…

"Where is she?" Duncan asked again.

"Well, a-away," Rindel hesitated, hovering away from the Guardian and his Ghost. He seemed to be trying to hide in the shadows but Albert kept a light on him so Duncan could track his motion. Making a coughing sound like he was clearing his throat, Rindel added, "We had a disagreement yesterday evening. I haven't seen her since."

Duncan remained silent, putting together the information he had. Bailey wasn't dead and from the way Rindel had made it sound, things related to Thorn had only gotten worse. Albert, on the other hand, was full of questions for Bailey's Ghost.

"A disagreement? You left your Guardian? What kind of companion are you? What if something happens to her?"

"Al, tha's enough," Duncan scolded, holding his left hand out in the space between himself and Rindel. The Hunter watched Bailey's Ghost hover forward until he stopped above the man's palm. In a quiet voice, he asked, "What happened, Rindel?"

"She wasn't herself," the Ghost lowered his eye. "She kept whispering things to that gun, things in a language I couldn't understand. I asked her to stop but s-she told me to leave. Before she pried the Light out of my frame. I-I had leave. I could tell she was serious!"

"And where were ya when she said tha'?" Duncan wondered.

"Another bunker a few kilometers from here," Rindel replied. His spirits seemed to have lifted, however, since Duncan had intervened with Albert and started asking questions of his own. "She's kept it up as her primary residence since you found this one."

Taking a deep breath, Duncan said, "Take me there."

"B-but Guardian!"

"We'll see this is all made righ', Rindel," the Hunter assured, pushing his gun into the holster at his waist. His palms had grown sweaty within his gloves, and his heart was pounding.

Bailey was alive… It was all he could concentrate on as he led the way out of the dark bunker and into the Martian sun.

"You're sure you want to go alone?" Amri asked with an unmistakable note of skepticism in his voice. Not more than ten minutes ago, his best friend couldn't see straight for the grief he felt when faced with the prospect of having lost Bailey. Now he wanted to wander off and face her alone?

There was no sure way to know what she was capable of after all the time she'd been alone out here. She'd scared off her Ghost, threatened to pry the Light from his shell with her bare hands, and Duncan thought she'd feel any differently about seeing him?

"That sounds like a terrible idea," Amri continued, not yet ready to spare Duncan the lecture.

"Well, I don' think i's tha' bad," the Hunter protested, crossing his arms over his chest and looking to Ash. "Wha' do you think?"

"We should go together," Ash replied after a few moments of thought. Her cape, a brilliant shade of amethyst, caught the wind and flickered behind her. Nodding her head, she pressed on, "It would better that way."

"Who would guard the ship?" Duncan protested, pointing at the pristine jumpship painted orange and blue behind the Exo.

Amri shook his head and turned to look back at the ship. He'd won it off of Kellin a few weeks before in the Crucible, and it was the newest ship he'd ever owned. Tapping the place on his helmet above his temple, Amri decided, "I'll stay with the ship. You two go together for Bailey."

Satisfied with the compromise, Duncan agreed, "Le's go, little Hunter."

He was already halfway down the ridge before he heard the sound of Ash's boots on the ground. She grumbled, "I thought we decided it was Ash after I graduated!"

"Old habi's die hard," the older Hunter replied, smirking to himself when he recognized the young woman was surprised by his hearing. Albert had done a good job on his most recent attempt to readjust things.

"This way, Guardian," Rindel urged. The way he hovered forward ahead of the two Hunters was the only indication Duncan needed to read he was anxious. And the Hunter didn't blame him. Ghosts were not meant to be separated from their Guardians. "The bunker is a few kilometers ahead."

"Should we use our speeders?" Ash wondered.

"Don' wanna le' her know we're comin', do we?" Duncan questioned.

Aware so much of his good humor was back now that his hopes of finding her were restored, Ash rolled her eyes and challenged, "I still remember what happened the last time you snuck up on her."

Duncan ignored the comment and pressed forward after Rindel. He took long strides to keep up with the crimson Ghost, keeping his eyes enough ahead of him to watch the ridge line. He didn't want to be deterred from his purpose by a squadron of Cabal, but he felt confident it would be little trouble to manage if he saw them coming.

It had taken about a half an hour to reach the bunker Bailey had adopted in lieu of the one he'd already uncovered. It was situated in between what might have once been a river valley, tucked almost invisibly into the cliff side on his left. Crouching low to survey the immediate area, Duncan saw no sign of the Warlock, but there were clues she'd been there. A few crates of unspent ammo were stacked just outside the doorway and the fire pit where she cooked her meals was still smoking from whatever she'd made at mid-day.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Ash asked. "Go get her, Cassanova."

"Shh," Duncan whispered, watching a familiar frame wander out into the sunlight from within the bunker. He ducked a little lower behind the ridge and pulled Ash down with him. "You wai' here. Give me some cover bu', whatever you do, don' hur' her."

Ash nodded.

And Duncan stood up to make his way down to her.

She'd noticed him right away. Ash could hear the recognition in the Warlock's tone as she asked, "Duncan?"

Snapping a full magazine of ammo into her scout rifle, Ash chanced a nervous glance down after her mentor. She could hear the relief in his voice when he affirmed, "Yeah, Bailey. I's me."

"How did you find me?" she wondered, moving forward until she fell forward into the Hunter's arms. Duncan returned the embrace, letting his helmet fall against hers.

"Guardian! You're alright," Rindel hovered forward to celebrate.

"Of course," Bailey said with a shaky tone. She had pulled far enough away from Duncan to look over at her Ghost. Behind her visor, however, it was impossible to know what her expression read. Her left hand pressed into his shoulder for a brief moment before she staggered backwards. She touched her helmet above where her temple would have been, stammering, "Y-you shouldn't be here."

"We're here to take you home," Rindel replied, his tone bordering on exasperation. He hovered forward, between where the Hunter stood in front of the Warlock, and froze when her shoulders twitched. His voice was shaky as he finished, "Back to the Tower."

Laughter poured from the young woman's throat, high-pitched and eerie, but Duncan wasn't sure he could let himself believe it was her. Bailey didn't sound so… terrifying.

"That place is not my home."

Ash, who had watched the event unfold from behind the scope of her scout rifle, aimed. But by the time she had the Warlock lined up for what would be a non-fatal shot, the other woman had already drawn her weapon.

Duncan captured her wrist in his hand, effective in stifling her ability to aim. The gun misfired over his shoulder, and Ash thought to wonder if his hearing would suffer for how close she'd been when she'd fired at him. Or Rindel… Whomever she'd been trying to hit.

Hesitating with her finger over the trigger, Ash waited for the moment she could find a clear shot. Watching with wide eyes as her mentor wrangled the young woman against the cliff wall and held both of her wrists pinned at her sides, Ash gasped when she heard the sound of Bailey's gun fire.

It missed Duncan again but this time by a smaller margin. The bullet landed in the ground by his feet. A mysterious green haze emanated from the hole it left.

Frowning, Ash fired a warning shot into the cliff, letting the bullet hit above the Warlock's helmet. Both Bailey and Duncan froze in their struggle.

"What's this?" the Warlock wondered, freeing her hand to press it into the center of Duncan's chest to push him away. Her focus had shifted to the ridge line. The Warlock chuckled, "She seems a little young, don't ya think?"

Rage boiled underneath Ash's skin. Just what did this Warlock think she was suggesting? Amri was her boyfriend, not Duncan! Watching the way the Hunter let Bailey pull her wrist away from his grasp, Ash widened her eyes when his hand shifted to the gun at his waist, The Last Word.

"You leave her ou' of this, Bailey," the Hunter's tone was hard, with an unmistakable edge of displeasure laced underneath. He pressed his forearm against her collarbone, pinning her against the wall.

"You're the one who brought her," Bailey reminded, pressing the barrel of her gun against Duncan's temple. She'd moved so fast Ash hadn't been able to find a mark. Duncan's wrist was in her left hand; his gun pointed harmlessly at the ground. Ash could hear Bailey's voice in Duncan's comms; a voice almost unrecognizable and low as the words mingled with the slow roll of an eerie laugh, "Boom."

Without hesitation, Ash fired. She aimed for the back of Warlock's shoulder. But as she pulled the trigger, the small ravine filled with a thick, dark smoke. The young Hunter couldn't see anything, she couldn't think straight, but panic was an emotion greater than fear in that moment. She raced forward into the smoke, "Duncan? Duncan!"

He was sitting on the ground when the smoke cleared; holding his left shoulder, looking down at the hand cannon he'd drawn against the woman he loved like he might have been ashamed of himself. Ash stopped where she stood when he started to speak.

"Always did have a bi' of a jealous streak, tha' one," Duncan laughed darkly, turning the gun over to inspect it.

"You've been shot," Ash noted, pointing at his shoulder. Then the guilt sunk in. There was no sign of poison, which meant it had been she who had shot Duncan. "I'm sorry I missed."

Nodding, Duncan lifted the gun a few inches as though testing the weight like he wanted to find the weapon's balance. His tone was unreadable when he looked up at Ash and said, "Hold on to this, would ya?"

"Duncan?"

"I won' be needin' it," he explained, standing up. Dusting himself off, he nodded like he had accepted his decision. He held the gun out to his protege.

Ash's mind raced for the hidden motive in his actions. She understood, in no uncertain terms, what lengths Amri had gone to to obtain that gun. She was aware of why Duncan needed it. And, worse yet, she knew he knew it, as well.

So why was he handing it over? Unless… Unless he didn't intend to save Bailey from herself at all.

She didn't take the gun.

"Then how will you-"

"I been thinkin'," the Hunter replied.

"About?" Ash demanded, feeling her heart start to race. What effect had seeing her again had on the man? He wasn't thinking straight. Maybe Amri…

"Abou' a lot of things," he continued. "Her Ligh' and mine."

"You can't go without the gun," the young woman protested. "She could kill you!"

"I have a feelin' she doesn' wan' to shoo' me, either," he tossed the gun to her, and she had no choice but to catch it.

"Duncan!" Ash tried to protest, reaching out to him.

Holding his hand out to push her away, the pair stood in silence. Both of their capes caught in the wind. Duncan clenched his hand to a fist when Ash came to a stop. And he shook it a few times at his side, nodding.

"I've accepted my path," he said. And Ash could hear the smile on his voice. "I'm gonna try to save her. If I can' do it, jus' look after each other. You and Amri. And look after her, too. Bes' you can in either case."

Pushing the gun into the holster at her waist, she drew a shaky breath as she gazed up at her mentor. Ash knew she would do what he asked. But she didn't feel right just letting him walk away, so she called out after him an affirmation, "As best I can. I promise."

"Until nex' time, little Hunter."

"Until next time," she waved. But he never turned around.

It hadn't taken him long to find her again. But, he supposed, she'd probably wanted that he find her. Keeping his hands at his sides where she could see them, he greeted her, "Hi, Bailey."

His footsteps were slow as he descended into the lowered depression where she waited. A lone breeze caught the edge of his dark black cape and swept it away and to his left. His eyes were on the ground for a moment longer than they should have been but when he noticed a flicker of motion from the lone figure she made for, standing alone in the center of the ravine, his dark brown eyes were locked on her with a wariness that shamed him.

He had to make a conscious effort of reminding himself she wasn't what he remembered.

"You took your time," an eerie voice he didn't recognize replied. High and wispy and not at all how he remembered her sounding. She hadn't been gone so long he'd forgotten the way her voice sounded, had she? No, most certainly not. This woman standing in front of him was not Bailey.

Not entirely.

He stopped a few meters away from the dark figure, hand poised over the holster at his waist where Eyasluna waited for her summons.

"Where's your girlfriend?"

Duncan couldn't keep the smirk from crossing his features. He'd heard the faintest trace of Bailey's voice there, behind the taunt whatever was standing in front of him had tried to throw in his direction. It was enough to lure him into feeling hopeful, despite everything else indicating, perhaps, he shouldn't be.

Chuckling, he wondered, "You mean Amri's girlfriend?"

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other but remained otherwise motionless.

"She lef' to go ge' him," Duncan replied. He felt the breeze tugging at his cape again. He could feel Bailey's eyes were following him and he lowered his gaze to the ground between them, deciding to let down his guard and trust she was going to listen to what he had to say. It wasn't that different, the blind trust, than it had been nearly two years earlier when he'd chanced she wouldn't shoot him the first time he'd found her in the Crucible. In a quiet tone, he began confessing, "He's missed ya. We all have; Amri, Kellin, and me."

He looked up at her, studying the way she stood. Duncan couldn't read her expression for the dark visor of her helmet but he wanted to believe there was something different, now, about the way she was holding herself. Like his words had reached her… however far away from him she was.

"Gotta admi'," he continued. "No' havin' ya around has been hard on us. Me, mos'ly. I've missed you, Bailey."

His brown eyes were set on the dark figure she made for, cloaked in the tatters of what remained of the handsome dark-blue and crimson robes he'd always known her to wear. Most of the lower portion of the mantle had been torn away, leaving visible dark leather boots stained in Martian clay.

As the breeze swept through the ravine again, the folds of her robe whispered in the breeze, and he noticed the way she brought both of her hands over her heart. Her shoulders hitched like she might have been switching in and out of herself and Duncan felt his hand travel to hover over the gun at his waist on instinct. Just in case…

Bailey drew her gun but didn't point it at Duncan. He watched her shoulders hunch forward, and she whispered something to the gun he couldn't make out for the sound of his cloak whipping against the back of his calves. When she looked up at him again, there was the faintest glimmer of green glowing back at him from behind the dark shade of her visor.

Feeling the chills race up his spine, Duncan willed his shoulders to remain still. If he was at all unnerved by the way she'd looked, talking to that gun, he couldn't let her know it.

"That hand cannon," the eerie voice echoed through the small space in between them. The shadow of Bailey made fast her action of pointing for the gun at his waist and Duncan tried to pretend he hadn't noticed she'd made the motion with her gun. "She left it for you."

Drawing the hand cannon off of his belt in a slow manner, so she could see where his hands were, the Hunter spun it with practiced skill around his hand. Forwards and backward, reacquainting himself with the feeling of it in his hand.

"It seems you did finally figure it out," she continued, a passive sort of nonchalance on her tone. Then, for possibly every reason or no reason at all, she clarified, "She counted on that; the other Warlock finding the other gun and you realizing it wasn't your answer."

As Duncan held the dark hand cannon out in front of himself, he was reminded of the recognizable weight, like an old friend. He and Eyasluna had been through a lot together. She was still as familiar to him as the last day he'd held her many years before; a comfort despite what remained so uncertain about his current situation.

Despite the riddles Bailey's curse was speaking through, the Hunter thought he was beginning to understand.

He looked across the ravine at the woman he still wasn't sure was the Guardian he'd fallen in love with or something more sinister born of the Darkness. With confidence in his tone he wasn't sure he honestly felt, Duncan demanded, "Wha' have you done with Bailey?"

"I've consumed her Light," the eerie voice replied.

"Not entirely!" Rindel hovered forward from behind Duncan's shoulder. His tone didn't hide the anger and resentment he felt for whatever it was in control of his Guardian. Then, to the Duncan, he encouraged, "Don't listen to her, Hunter. My Guardian's Light has not gone out!"

"Not yet," the lone figure at the western horizon chuckled.

Duncan felt his shoulders tense as he allowed for the familiar weight of Eyasluna to fall into place at his palm. Thorn was already pointed in Rindel's direction before the Hunter could react. But the Ghost wasted no time before hovering back to the perceived safety behind Duncan's cape.

Keeping Eyasluna pointed at the ground, the Hunter placed his left palm alongside his thigh to feel for his field knife. He was satisfied, now, the other form he was standing off against was not Bailey, not right now, anyway. Though he couldn't be sure of the details, there was something sinister suppressing her Light.

Albert hovered forward, taking his place directly beside Duncan's left shoulder, to retort, "You're bluffing. She's still there fighting you, whatever you call yourself. And you won't have her. Not while her Ghost is still alive."

That comment made her mad…

In a flash, Duncan sprang into action. She'd adjusted the angle of her gun and fired a single shot at Albert. The Hunter understood, now, both of their Ghosts were going to be a target for this dark shadow possessing Bailey. Thorn wouldn't have a Guardian, either Bailey or Duncan, while their Ghosts still held onto the Traveler's Light.

Duncan's field knife was soaring through the air before he'd even registered he'd thrown it at all. In the space between the two figures, a spark flashed in the open air. The Hunter's field knife had intercepted the Warlock's bullet. He'd had to close his eyes for the bright flash of energy resulting from the collision, but when he opened them, he recognized the shadow was afraid of him now…

Or at least she had become wary of the power of his Light.

He felt hope, then.

It was all he could feel; the prevailing, overpowering emotion that flowed through his veins. Bailey was still alive; for as long as he could keep her Ghost safe, for as long as she could suffer resisting whatever it was who wished to grab hold of her. And if the shadow, whom he presumed still maintained a fragile semblance of control over the Guardian inside, had been trying to hide her hand from him, well… she'd exposed everything by firing on the pair of Ghosts.

Trying to work out the details in his mind while, at the same time, maintaining a healthy concentration on exactly where it was the dark figure chose to point her gun, Duncan took a deep breath. If Thorn couldn't have Bailey until her Ghost's Light was extinguished… then, it must have meant Bailey been the one to send Rindel away.

She was still fighting. It was enough a thread of hope to cling to and believe he could save her yet.

And that this shadow had fired at Albert?

Duncan felt his chest constrict like the very breath had been forced out of his lungs. Would it have mattered to Thorn at all, as powerful as she had become, whether she held Bailey or Duncan? The pressure in his chest was replaced with a familiar heat. Solar Light. Suddenly, Eris Morn's cryptic warning flashed through his subconscious, and the rest of the puzzle started to piece itself together at an alarming rate.

The means of her control mattered little if the end was the same… Thorn would have a Guardian. Either Guardian. Realizing he might have his chance to shoulder the weight of Bailey's burden for himself, the Hunter straightened his shoulders and stood at his full height.

He understood.

Duncan tightened his grip on Eyasluna, muttering to himself, "Her Ligh' or mine."

"What was that Guardian?" the shadow asked; amusement was the emotion she had settled on to replace her anger. At least for the moment.

The Hunter didn't reply.

He closed his eyes, feeling the warmth from his chest spread slow but sure through his limbs; traveling through his bloodstream like oxygen to his lungs. He hadn't been so acutely aware of his Light, so confident of his ability to manipulate it to suit his will since he'd first tried to activate his Golden Gun. It had been more than a decade.

And it didn't take long for him to weigh his options and make up his mind. Thousands of images of her flashed through his mind like the sparks which might have fallen away from his Golden Gun, were he to activate it.

Bailey, smiling as Kellin hoisted her up onto his shoulders after an unbeaten run through the Crucible during an Iron Banner tournament. The way she would scold the Titan, nearly twice her size, for picking on Reyka.

He thought of Amri sliding under her speeder bike to lie next to her as they worked together through the necessary repairs to mend the damage she'd done, racing the other Warlock through the Forgotten Shores of Venus. The way the Exo would carry her books back from their trips together to the archives.

Duncan blinked twice, thinking of Reyka and the way Bailey's best friend had never given up hope she'd be found and returned to the Tower. The way the Awoken woman spoke of the Warlock like she was away for a little while; like she'd be back just in time to meet her godchild.

The fire building in his chest only intensified when Duncan thought of them, her and himself; the couple they'd made for when they were together.

The way she'd made a game of hiding from him in the vast aisles of books making up the archives; laughing at the way he'd dart back and forth between the aisles in an attempt to catch her.

The way she'd let him fall asleep with his head down on the table next to her books when she was working.

The way she'd wrap her fingers around the collar of his shirt as she'd fall asleep each night.

The color of her eyes; grey and not green.

The sound of her voice and the way her hands could light his skin on fire.

He thought of the secrets they'd whispered to each other under a sky lit by a thousand stars… and he knew, then, there had only ever been one answer to his choice.

She would be alright without him.

He'd felt lost since the day she'd left. An empty, hollow shell of a man. A waste of the Traveler's Light. He'd forgotten whatever it was which had given him purpose before he'd known her. Maybe he'd never had it and had only been made aware when she's gone away.

Duncan had seen what a life without her might look like. He'd seen it. And he'd lived it for the past six months.

She would be alright without him.

But he could never live without her.

"Nothing to say?" she taunted, the high-pitched and eerie sound of the voice that did not belong to her echoing between them.

"No' to you," he said.

"She's been waiting for you, Hunter," the shadow taunted, cocking her head to the right and then to the left. He could make out the dull glow of green from behind her visor but, this time, Duncan didn't feel chills. The fire of his Light was burning too strong for there to be any room left for doubt. He smirked when her voice continued, "There were times I thought you'd given up. Even after you found my bunker."

"I'm here because she didn' give up," he replied, so sure he had chosen the right path there was no room left for hesitation.

When she faltered again, her shoulders hitched and the dull green behind her visor faded. She fell forward like the wind had been knocked out of her lungs; the Hunter took a deep breath. His heart soared when he heard the familiar tone of the Warlock's voice ask, "Duncan?"

"Yeah, i's me," he answered. "I'm here."

He could see the green glow brighten from behind her visor as he watched the shadow raise Thorn to point it at him. Her voice was cruel when she retorted, "She's not here."

"I'm no' here for you," Duncan sighed, exasperation building up right alongside the power of his Light. He'd been close, so close, to drawing Bailey out. He'd wanted to talk to her once more, before he went through with… well, whatever it was he was about to do. Looking behind the gun and into the visor of the shadow, he reminded, "I'm here for Bailey Greene. A Warlock from the Tower. She's a Sunsinger, mos'ly. A Voidwalker when she wan's to be-"

"There's no one here by that name!" the angry, rage-filled shriek echoed through the empty ravine.

"I believe you're wrong," Duncan challenged, concentrating on pouring all the power of his Light into the gun he held. He felt the fire burst from within, coursing through his veins, down to each of his nerve endings.

"Then you'll be sorely disappointed," she seemed to brighten as she'd uttered the words.

Watching the way she brought the gun to level with the center of his chest, Duncan felt his hand move of its own accord. Reflex guided by the selfless power of the decision he'd made; the purpose he'd derived to give over all of himself, his Light included, to keep her safe.

He felt his emotions melding with the Solar Light coursing through his body; anger he hadn't gotten to speak with her one last time, sorrow he'd never again see her smile or hear her laugh. All of the emotions he'd buried for the months she'd been gone… all the deepest secrets of his heart were coming to focus until he was overcome with the sudden sense of calm.

He felt his finger close on the trigger of his first love, Eyasluna, and felt the immediate emptiness that followed the bullet from the chamber.

Duncan closed his eyes, accepting all of it; his decision, the loss of his Light to save his true love… He smiled, exhaling a slow breath.

The bullet was engulfed in a violent flash of light which sparked from the center of the ravine and blotted out all hope the two figures who had just crested the ridge might have had for watching the conclusion of the firefight.

Ash blinked open her eyes, willing them to readjust to the dimness of the setting Martian sun. She'd had to look away from the brilliant flash of light, but as her amber eyes came back into focus, she felt her heart rise to her throat. In the ravine, she saw the motionless forms of both Duncan and Bailey, both of whom were still glowing with the powerful traces of Duncan's Solar Light.

Struggling to take her next breath for the sheer sense of dread she felt by looking at them; the younger Hunter started to scramble forward. Amri's hand on her shoulder stopped her; when she looked up at him, he was shaking his head.

"Guardian?" Albert hovered forward.

Ash watched Rindel, covered in a bright crimson shell, hover past Duncan and Albert to be nearer to Bailey. And when he got close enough, the Warlock stirred from where she'd fallen on the ground. Rising to rest on her right elbow, the young woman shook her head as though waking up from a deep sleep. Ash watched her tense when she noticed Duncan lying motionless at the bottom of the ravine.

"Duncan?" she wondered, crawling forward the few meters separating them. He didn't move to respond, and when she seemed to realize he wasn't waking up, the panic entered her tone, "Duncan! Wake up!"

She had her hands on both of his arms, giving his motionless frame a few shakes to try to wake him up. The Hunter couldn't help but notice they both looked so splendid, shining together under the final traces of the Martian sun. When, again, he didn't move, Ash looked away to where the melted frame of Thorn, Bailey's curse, was lying on top of an ebony pile of ash that twisted and curled into an eerie pattern of Hive markings behind her.

Already, a single rose had bloomed forth from a small circle of red clay preserved from the ash.

"Oh, Duncan," Bailey mumbled between sobs, knocking her helmet away from her head and then gently removing his so she could admire his handsome features. The faint hiss of their oxygen could be heard whispering up from the center of the ravine, but it did little to hide the sorrow from her voice. She was cradling his limp figure in her arms like he was the most delicate and precious thing she'd ever known in all her life. Her voice was a soft murmuring of barely audible thoughts, "What have I done? It wasn't supposed to be your end. It was supposed to be mine."

Ash felt numb as the heavy weight of her sorrow finally came to rest over her heart. Turning to Amri, who held his arms open for her, she let herself fall forward into the familiar comforts of his embrace. Earlier, she could imagine Duncan's grief. Now, she wasn't sure if she would ever forget it.

In the distance, she could make out the quiet confusion of Albert, asking the Warlock, "Y-you didn't fire?"

"No," she cried. "Of course not."

"Then he aimed for your gun?" the Ghost wondered. But Bailey never replied.

When Amri pulled away, and Ash looked back down into the ravine, she wasn't sure if her mind was playing tricks on her because it was what her heart would have wanted or if what she saw was real. She thought she noticed Duncan's hand move through the clay towards his gun. It wasn't until she watched his hand clench around the frame of something entirely unfamiliar she remembered to breathe; it was not Eyasluna but a new gun.

"The First Curse," Amri muttered beside her.

And almost like his voice had spurred the other Warlock into action, Ash felt her eyes widen when Bailey pulled away to look down at Duncan. The young Hunter was certain, then, everything was going to turn out alright when she heard the sound that escaped the Warlock's lips, something caught between a sob and a laugh, as she sighed, "Duncan?"

"Don' cry, Bailey," the older Hunter sighed, wrapping his left arm around her waist. When the force of her returning his embrace knocked both of them back onto the ground, Ash laughed softly and closed her eyes. The sound of Duncan's voice brought the smile to her lips as he soothed, "I didn' mean to make you cry."

"You're alright," Bailey whispered, running her fingers through the Hunter's hair before she pressed her lips to his temple. Her hands worked across the expanse of his chest, as though seeing him with her own eyes wasn't enough to believe he was there. Her lips whispered over his, "I thought I'd lost-."

"Don' say it, Bailey," he almost laughed, letting her support his head as she pulled away to look down at him. He pushed the new gun into her right hand, adding, "I'm alrigh'. You're alrigh'. Tha's all tha' matters."

"What's this?" she asked, letting his head rest in her lap before she took the gun from him. Looking it over carefully, she seemed to be assessing the weight of it to find its point of balance. As the Warlock turned it over in her hands, Duncan seemed to recognize his gun wasn't so familiar to him anymore.

"Yours," he sighed, seeming not to care about finding the explanation for whatever it was that had changed about Eyasluna. Closing his eyes, the Hunter pressed his face into the coarse material of the Warlock's robe and wrapped both of his arms around her waist.

Ash smiled, trying to hold back happy tears as she admired the way the top portion of the hand cannon gleamed against the sunset or maybe it was from the last traces of Duncan's Solar Light which was just now fading away from the figures of the Hunter and the Warlock. The bottom portion of the hand cannon was ebony; as black as midnight or the eerie patterns that had formed, forgotten, on the ground beneath them.

"Well, it's certainly not yours," Bailey agreed with a defiant sort of edge to her tone like she was teasing the Hunter. The smile on her face was brilliant as she pushed the new hand cannon into its place at her waist. Warily eyeing the ruined frame of Thorn lying a short distance behind her, she kicked it a few inches further away with the toe of her boot. When it seemed to pose no threat, her gaze settled back on the Hunter still resting his head in her lap. Her grey eyes gleamed mischievously as she added, "Not after the way you destroyed my gun!"

"Yeah," he smirked, reaching up to brush a few of her silvery bangs out of her pale grey eyes. "I s'pose tha's only fa-"

But however he might have ended the statement was lost when she pressed her lips against his. When his arms found their way around her shoulders to pull her body down into line with his, Ash politely turned away to look at the gun secured to her hip.

Even from as far away as she had been from Duncan and Bailey, Ash could tell how similar this new gun of Bailey's looked to The Last Word. Feeling for Duncan's hand cannon on her waist, she smiled.

She'd be giving her mentor back his gun as soon as he unwrapped himself from the Warlock who currently occupied his attention. Maybe he'd be ready to have it back by the time they reached the Tower… but she wouldn't begrudge him if it took a little longer than that. He'd been separated from Bailey for almost as long as it had taken her to become a Gunslinger.

Besides, she smiled as Amri worked his hand into hers, Ash fancied herself more of a scout rifle sort of girl, anyway.


End file.
